He doesn't say much at first, trying to master the flare of confusion and jealousy. The sound of the water splashing on their bodies and to the ground is the only sound in the room, apart from the few crows playing in the puddles.

Finally, when he speaks, it's halting, uncertain.

"He told me he was a spirit, once. In a dream. That he had died before... I think I told him I had died too. It was my old dream, in the Winterfell crypts, when there were so many troubles with the Shapers.

"I can't begrudge his survival, but... for others to be able to talk to you that way--" The look he gives her is at least partly reproachful.