[sansa laughs brightly. he sounds almost like one of her brothers, jesting as if party cakes were a military matter.]

He made it sound as if you might be cooking to his tastes, and not your own. And he wouldn't tell me what they were, either, so I thought it best to bring a few different kinds. [one of every flavor cupcake they had.] They're only from the shop, I'm certain I know less about baking than you do. And--

[she digs into her satchel and pulls out a black leather tunic that buckles at one side. the chest and shoulders have been lightly padded like suitcoats she sees men wearing in cellar door sometimes, which of course serves the dual purpose of extra protection. it is carved with branching weirwood designs at the collar and cuffs, which close with pale bloodstone buttons. there's an empty circle at the chest. she hands it to him, a bit sheepish now, conscious now that what seemed a perfectly reasonable number of gifts at home seems rather a lot once presented.]

You didn't have any armor in the catacombs, and it looked like you'd been hurt. Nobody had your measurements, but I can take it in. And nobody had your sigil, either, but I left room to carve it, if you like.

[she smiles, again a bit sheepishly.]

That's all. Truly, the kitten was the present.