Squints.

She heard milfs and assumes people are talking about her again.

She’s afraid she’ll catch a disease if she stands within five feet of a Stark so. . . she’ll pass.

Blinks. “Do you want something, Baelish?”

She tries her hardest to resist rolling her eyes. . . but fails. “I don’t think a hallway of the school where 𝙢𝙮 father reigns as headmaster restricts me from any area in particular. If you’re as smart as you convince people you are, you’ll walk away without a word.”

Groans and sits. Give her the wine.

“Perhaps. . . perhaps not.” Her lips curl into a small smirk. “What matters is that I have this position, whether or not it’s due to family status. Power is power after all, right?”

She’s mumbling something about how much she despises him as she reaches for the glass.

She’s heard it all before, him being so keen on his beliefs. It causes her to breathe deeply before continuing – “You’ll believe what you believe, regardless. I’m just letting you know that you’d be wiser to keep quiet. It wouldn’t be that difficult to have you fired.”

Does Littlefinger deserve rights. Be honest.

“Hmm.” She hums while bringing the glass to her lips. Luckily for him, the wine tasted as expensive as promised. She might stick around for a few minutes. “Any exciting things happening in your dull, sad life?”

“Right. Of course not, Baelish.” She waves him off, passively. He’ll know his place soon enough.

Sighs. Joffrey, stop harassing your brother.

Good to know.

Depends.

On whether or not he’s been seeing anyone else behind her back.

She’ll be holding it over him for as long as she needs to. . . . But yes, she might’ve missed him.

She’ll have no choice but to strangle anyone who mentions she’s another year older.

You’re still living?