( If a Lannister were hard to mistake, a Stark would then be impossible to miss. Myrcella knows that face as well as that voice, and she finds her eyes widening as they take in the sight of him, and how he has changed. How long has it been? Five years? Longer? The Wall has given him many battles to fight, from the look of him. With scars over his eyes, and a look in them as though he has seen things which haunt him. A similar feeling now rests in her breast, locked away; she is simply more adept at concealing it. And he is not at all lacking.

The both of them had been perceptive children, once upon a time. Blinking owlishly for a long moment, she considers both his reply and lack of spoken recognition for the moment. )

Sweet? ( Her nose wrinkles, scrunching almost comically. ) No, I don't think I would. What's the matter with these people?

( And now at last, she raises an eyebrow and offers forth a dainty hand. )

It has been an age, Jon Snow. Or so it feels! Have you been well?