Lyanna looks up as someone almost runs right into her table, catching up her drink and looking up at... Gods, he looks like Brandon. It’s almost uncanny, how the stranger looks as though he could be a Stark. As though he could be family. It’s absurd; the only family she has here is Ned. It takes her a moment, to find her words.

“It’s all right,” she manages, the familiar sound of a Stark accent lacing her words. “It’s crowded tonight. A little jostling and stumbling is expected.” She indicates the empty chair on the other side of table. “You can sit down, if you’d like.”