Dizzy and dazed. That's how he leaves her to go answer the door. She's enough mind to her to track his movements, to lean forward just enough to see who is here to bother them. Can't be one of their friends. Not if she's just come back and he's been here. No, if enough time's passed where the dragons are dead, that happened long after she and Jon died. Which means their friends, they all--cornered, golden masked men lunging forward, the wet sound of skin and fabric tearing, blood and innards splattering to the dirt--she swallows thickly. Looks away. Squeezes her eyes tightly shut against the sudden heat and dampness in them.

Missandei, Grey Worm, Jorah, Barristan...

Irriella whines, a low, pitiful sound. No longer relaxed against Ghost, she looks uncomfortable and upset. In pain, even.

Dany's on her hands and knees an instant later, crawling over to the two animals just as Jon is setting the tray down. The red panda tries to claw her way against Dany's chest, where she seems to prefer to rest. By the time Jon's back in the room, she's one arm around Irriella, and one hand buried in Ghost's scruff. Her expression is pleasant, even if her eyes are a little sad.

"Days, you said. It was never bad before, we had the bonfires."