The tension mounts [for Vimes]

[_kinginthenorth]

The days since Joffrey's death stretch on, and Robb's been getting very little sleep. Nothing has been decided, nothing solved; Sansa keeps to her room (partly at their father's insistence), Summerfell is tense and quiet, even the wolves pace around the perimetre like silent sentries

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[sir_samuel]

Vimes was looking through the notes for both the Lannister and the Sylar (Sylar, really? What the hells kind of pyschopath name was Sylar?) cases as he returned to the office and nearly tripped over the direwolf stretched out on the floor in the process.

He managed to stop short, blinking down at the wolf. "...hello?" Vimes was well acquainted with animals who gave the impression that the only reason they weren't ripping out your throat was that they had woken up on the right side of the metaphorical bed, but that didn't mean he'd gotten used to it.

And then he looked up and saw the creature's constant compainion.

Oh, hells.

He raised his brows. "Afternoon." Yeah, you didn't have to be much of a detective to figure out what Robb was there to talk about.

[_kinginthenorth]

The look Robb shoots him is startled, despite having expected him eventually, and more accusing than he perhaps means it to be.

"Good afternoon," he echoes abruptly, stiffening.

[sir_samuel]

He tilted his head to the side slightly and dropped his papers on the desk.

"Something I can do for you, Robb?"

[_kinginthenorth]

"I wanted to enquire as to the status of the investigation," Robb rattles off so rapidly it's clear he'd rehearsed the line several times to keep anything else from slipping out with it. He rubs nervously at his forehead. "My sister still hasn't left the house."