[ well, then. that's a lot to digest in a small period of time. while he would have loved to use his vocabulary to continue their battle of idioms, she parts knowledge on him that takes immediate precedence.

Jorah has remained reserved with his words and thoughts up until now, but she can certainly see cracks beginning to form by the time she says her name. it's the words that follow her name, rather, that sends his neck forward as if she's passed on terrible news. he cannot help but bring his fingers through the hair that has filled along his jawline, his mind being pulled into various directions all at once.

it takes a moment to finally gather the words in response. he clears his throat and ties his hands behind his back in an attempt at refraining from bothering her with the various emotions that washed over him. ]

This may carry little weight for you considering your short tenure here, but — I know of your Lord of Light, Lady Melisandre.

[ he doesn't know how to feel. it's been... ten months, perhaps, since he and Daenerys have emerged from the mirrors in Aefenglom. in those ten months, he has never found a soul from either Westeros or Essos. there is no telling how much time he had spent trying. Jorah, as she will quickly learn in due time, is no spiritual man. was this a blessed meeting? fated, even? the thought makes him laugh dryly through his nose. ]

Continuing with idioms, this has been a true twist of fate. I hail from Westeros. I am intimately aware of the Asshai'i. It is... very much a pleasure to meet you.

[ more than she'd probably understand. ]