Ever the articulate man, Guts grunts in response. He probably wouldn’t reject a meal after toiling for so long.
“Why do you nobles always fuss over your hands?” he says, before offering a bag of seeds for Sansa to hold. She wasn’t entirely serious - but the joke held its truth to it. Casca seemed so shy about her scars, too..
His own bag is held in the crook of his arm, held in place by the iron hand. The dirt trenches he tilled into the soil bed should be simple enough to follow. Once they’re both ready, he would start spreading them, two or three seeds at a time, into the straight rows.
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“Why do you nobles always fuss over your hands?” he says, before offering a bag of seeds for Sansa to hold. She wasn’t entirely serious - but the joke held its truth to it. Casca seemed so shy about her scars, too..
His own bag is held in the crook of his arm, held in place by the iron hand. The dirt trenches he tilled into the soil bed should be simple enough to follow. Once they’re both ready, he would start spreading them, two or three seeds at a time, into the straight rows.