[ She listened, and she gave a soft smile. Oddly soft for Fordola - it was the sort she'd use in private, around Thancred or her Skulls.

Fordola had begun to use it a lot more often. But it faded, as anger entered her voice again. ]

...it was all barely anything for him, then. My home. The betterment of everybody - though blood and sweat. The sacrifices made.

[ ...wait, that wasn't anger. That was sorrow, as Fordola frowned softly. ]

Don't worry. I'm good at holdin' my tongue.