"She's eighteen." She's off, but not terribly. She's still old enough to be Jon's mother, and that makes him close enough to Bree's age in her eyes.

The nose knows, as they say. It seems they both pick up on the scent of food, and Claire nods off in the direction they should follow.

"Gods and whatnot aside?" She asks, lifting a brow at him. "I've lived in big cities before, but none compare to this."

Not even Paris. The streets aren't bustling with people, but it reminds her of it with its grandeur. "Where are you from?"