She slips into a chair across from him and sips on her mug of ale, grimacing when she finds it just as little to her taste as every other time she had tried it.

"I don't know why I keep hoping I'll grow fond of it," she mutters, putting down the mug.

She considers Jon Snow thoughtfully. "Any story?" she muses aloud. She would love to hear about the battle he had come from, yet that seems like it could be a touchy topic. War usually is. "You look like someone who knows how to use his sword. Where did you learn to fight?" Well, close enough, but maybe a little less loaded. Hopefully.