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Suppose I could do with a rewatch. [It's going to catch him off-guard, how much he relates to it.

He fiddles with his sleeves, his sword hand flexing out of habit. Not burned, never burned, but he remembers it still. Sometimes Jon Snow's memories are stronger than Johan Mercurisson's, and Jon Winterson can't always tell which one he is, or if there's even any difference at this point. He wonders, almost childish, if he's still Ragna's little brother—if he was ever meant to be.

Krusnik didn't think so. They'd wanted someone else. Who wants one of those bastards from Westeros, they barely ever have anything useful, one of them had said disparagingly. It still echoes in his memory.

He swallows. Shrugs, glancing only briefly at Ragna's look before he looks away.]

I suppose you could call it that, but it wasn't that fantastic, aside from the walking dead. There was a lot of politics. [Even in his head, he can hear Ygritte's laugh. You know nothing, Jon Snow.]

[Fortunately, Harumasa can read between the lines. He glances at Ragna before turning his attention to Jon.]

Maybe not. But I think I can speak for Ragna, too, when I say we're glad to have you here. The place you were might've been dark, but now you can live in the light however you want.

[The young archer picks up his now empty package of bitter melon juice and throws it away. Harumasa looks over at Jon with a smile.]

By the way, who's the cute little Yorkie? Not a lotta dogs like my scent, and cats are the same way, so I was expecting more barking from your friend!

[It's an obvious topic change, but he feels like it's necessary to dispel the heaviness in the air for now.]

[Take the words out of his mouth, why don't you Haru? Ragna saw his brother getting weirdly uncomfortable. Maybe it was similar arm trauma coming about but he found himself, still finds himself, looking at his right arm when memories of "Ragna the Bloodedge" came up.

They would be talking about this. But for now, from one person who struggles to walk in the light to another.]

... No one's gonna hurt you here, Johan.

[So make friends. Flourish. Meet people who you'll form bonds with, who you'll remember to have dreams with. As for the doggy.]

If it tries shit like yapping it won't get treats.

[That draws a small smile from Jon, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly upward.]

Thank you, both of you. I am glad to be here. [For one thing, it's warmer. For another, there's less wights to deal with. For yet another, this is the first time in his memory of both lives that he's reunited with his family.

Grumkin, who's been very well-behaved, perks up as he's addressed, and yips at Jon: Can I say hi now? Can I go say hi now? I wanna say hi to the funny-smelling man!]

Sure. Be careful, don't nip too hard. [And he lets the leash go so Grumkin can launch his tiny body forward at Harumasa, yapping happily.] He's a sweet boy, he just gets excited. [To Ragna, in Swedish:] You should've seen him earlier, he tried to chase somebody's electric sheep.

[Holy shit.

The way Harumasa's face lights up as he's charged by a tiny little dog in excitement. This doesn't normally happen to him. His scent tends to be off-putting to animals. So, having this tiny terrier come at him has Harumasa immediately cooing as he kneels down to the Yorkie's level.]

Awwww, aren't you adorable?

[This dog is getting so many pets and so much affection.]

[God, both of them smiling like that. Johan seeming already more content and comfortable despite it all. Harumasa just being so delighted that a little dog is jumping for joy to say hello.

As much of a pain as they both were, as much as the guilt weighed on Ragna. As much as this is going to be a difficult adjustment period for both him and Johan.

Ragna couldn't remember a time he felt so... content and fond.]

Heh.

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