He heard her and answered anyway. "I don't have one. Wouldn't much know what to do with one if I did, on account of never having been one either."

But he had seen squires. Once, from his place in the forge, he'd envied those proud looking boys who stood behind their armored knights, learning and observing all they could. But now, he was a knight and had accomplished what all those squires could hope to be. Except for knowing what he should be doing. For now, he turned his left arm over and played with the strap there, loosening it until the armor slid free. He flexed his freed hand, wished that he would be doing the same with his right, and then waited. He could feel her delicate fingers at work. Not perhaps by contact, but more by imagination. He thought it a pity it was Sansa Stark behind him now and not Lucrezia instead.