Bellamy's familiarity with stuff like social calls and good manners is fairly limited. From a remote hut to the ranks of the Templars, to a warcamp of desperate mages, he has never had the opportunity to get any sort of refinement, but he still doesn't go to Gwen's private rooms. Hasn't been there since he escorted her to the healing tents, actually. And while he could have sent Gwen a note--his spelling and his handwriting are both of a better quality than his humble origins would suggest--he's elected instead to come down here to the healing tents and find her.
She's working, he's been told. People have seen her. She's a lady, she has a maid who accompanies her sometimes, and she's been hanging around the healer's tents, which is a venue that Bellamy is familiar with.
He actually admires that she's working. And as much as he's teased her about her status, there is something harder in Gwen that Bellamy appreciates. A little like Clarke, in that respect, but colder and haughtier and more willing to smile, even if her smiles have a studied pointy politeness to them. Octavia would either like Gwen or hate her. Probably the latter. They're too alike, in a way. And Bellamy misses his sister, more than he would say, thinks about her a great deal--worries about her, because she's somewhere he isn't, and he has a responsibility to her that he's forsaking to be here, and some days that thought alone stirs up a restlessness in him that's difficult to fight down. Like he's wasting his time here.
So he goes to make himself an obstruction in the healer's tents, because that's where Gwen is. He could go and train in the yard or something. Find something to keep busy with. Preparations for the missions to Orlais are underway, and he'll be riding out in the next few days. He could do any number of things, but instead he strolls over to where Gwen is working and leans up against a tent pole some few feet away, folds his arms over his chest and watches her rolling bandages.
"Nice work," he compliments, after a second. In case she's missed seeing him. "I thought you were just here to write stuff."
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She's working, he's been told. People have seen her. She's a lady, she has a maid who accompanies her sometimes, and she's been hanging around the healer's tents, which is a venue that Bellamy is familiar with.
He actually admires that she's working. And as much as he's teased her about her status, there is something harder in Gwen that Bellamy appreciates. A little like Clarke, in that respect, but colder and haughtier and more willing to smile, even if her smiles have a studied pointy politeness to them. Octavia would either like Gwen or hate her. Probably the latter. They're too alike, in a way. And Bellamy misses his sister, more than he would say, thinks about her a great deal--worries about her, because she's somewhere he isn't, and he has a responsibility to her that he's forsaking to be here, and some days that thought alone stirs up a restlessness in him that's difficult to fight down. Like he's wasting his time here.
So he goes to make himself an obstruction in the healer's tents, because that's where Gwen is. He could go and train in the yard or something. Find something to keep busy with. Preparations for the missions to Orlais are underway, and he'll be riding out in the next few days. He could do any number of things, but instead he strolls over to where Gwen is working and leans up against a tent pole some few feet away, folds his arms over his chest and watches her rolling bandages.
"Nice work," he compliments, after a second. In case she's missed seeing him. "I thought you were just here to write stuff."