I swore not to repeat what I hear in the kitchen, but my hands keep twisting my apron. Nothing happened today. Really.
What did you hear.
You can't carry words. You can carry yourself, though. If it's urgent, come find me at the market.
Word travels from the kitchen clear to the prison cells. My mouth, though, never does.
I swore not to repeat what I hear in the kitchen, but my hands keep twisting my apron. Nothing happened today. Really.

Walking past the guard post, I always come away with a bowlful of gossip. Today no one opened their mouth. That's the scariest kind of day there is.