Gendry had no words for the comfort she tried to provide. If he was not in the presence of a Lady, he'd find some way to channel his anger. Perhaps toss the table over. If he had a hammer and steel, he would let his fury go there. He longed to hear the steel sing and to feel his muscles ache with heavy blow. That was the only time he ever felt in control. But here, at this table, with fine foods and an even finer lady, he felt even more lost than he did on that boat that the old smuggler had set him upon.

Finally, he found some words that did need saying. They were low and mumbled.

"... if it pleases, m'lady. Might I be excused?"