His eyebrows raise a little, in restrained surprise. Half a miracle, indeed: he has not often thought on such company, and it had not occurred to him to make the connection between a girl in his favourite coffee shop and the distant idea of Tywin Lannister's daughter.

What he thinks, but does not say, is that the thought is a somewhat unpleasant one; Lannister is not a name much esteemed in his experience, since for all his flaws, Denethor Stewart was always a man who respected at least the appearance of honourable dealings. Dealing with the Lannisters was a matter of polite necessity, and of moving in some of the same circles; being well-mannered when necessity called for it did not prevent the worst gossip from finding its way back to the Stewart home. Including, now that he thinks of it, some that may have been about Cersei herself - and he is, in this moment, very glad that he did not listen too closely to it.

"Only half a miracle," he decides at last, with a little half-smile, "for one of the things that Father and I agreed most upon was that it was better that I leave to Boromir the kinds of engagements where we might have met. As I said, I am not so very sociable."