it sort of sounds like he just figured out the thing she's been only a few steps ahead of him on, here, and likely only that far for the benefit of slight remove. That it is familiar history but not her own, not intimate, not the story built into fact built into identity and probably only dented, not broken, under the force of the idiot thing he's just done to his knuckles.
“Thrice-forsaken stupid man,” is a scold, even as she's grabbing him by the shoulders so she can bully him into letting her look at his hand, an increasing stream of more inventive invective in Orlesian, frowning down between them. “You're going to have a weather-vane for a hand that won't close properly if this doesn't heal right—”
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it sort of sounds like he just figured out the thing she's been only a few steps ahead of him on, here, and likely only that far for the benefit of slight remove. That it is familiar history but not her own, not intimate, not the story built into fact built into identity and probably only dented, not broken, under the force of the idiot thing he's just done to his knuckles.
“Thrice-forsaken stupid man,” is a scold, even as she's grabbing him by the shoulders so she can bully him into letting her look at his hand, an increasing stream of more inventive invective in Orlesian, frowning down between them. “You're going to have a weather-vane for a hand that won't close properly if this doesn't heal right—”