Felix is in a bit better mood than usual, and probably is flipping through his book as he wanders by, and notices her, and blinks a little before remembering that wait he's supposed to be responsible for her, oops.
Hesitating, then, is how he'll be proceeding.
When she catches the red hair in her peripheral vision, she'll look up, faster than she should, barely avoiding the needle.
"--- Unc -- Felix!" He told her not to call him uncle last time.
He looks a little surprised, and just a little bit deer-in-headlights. "--Angelique," trying to be calm and collected, sort of, oops, he knew this was a bad idea and he'd fail at it.
She stands, abruptly. "--- are you -- I'm --- is this a good time? I'm sorry - you look busy, I should -- "
"I'm not busy, not at all - you were working-"
Commence awkward Felix. "--I'm not in the middle of anything, if there was something-"
"Please, it's been a long time since we saw each other. Won't you sit with me?"
"--of course," still a little antsy and uneasy, but it has to be - he'll work something out. Somehow. Dammit. "I am - I'm sorry."
Robb did not deliberately disobey his father! He was just walking with Grey Wind and Grey Wind led him...here. And poked his nose in the doorway, and then of course he had to go after him, and -
Not that Angelique is asking any of this.
She colors deeply, but the shirt is right there under his nose and -- what can she do? --- "My Lord." She stands, curtseys, very politely.
She's confused by the formality.
Mostly it's just automatic, and a moment later he almost - rushes across the room, reaches for her hands. "---Angelique," much more earnestly, with feeling.
She reaches back, but she had needlework in her hands, pauses awkwardly, puts it down on the couch before she slips her hands in his. "Oh, Robb..." She's flushed and a bit breathless - just seeing him made her blood run hot.
He kisses each of her hands, as soon as he has them, and smiles at her, almost radiant. Not quite, mostly because he can't shout it off the rooftops. "You look - beautiful," of course, she always does, but he wants to tell her.
She blushes and squeezes his hands, moving unconsciously to be closer to him. "Thank you, Robb. You look - you look well."
Sore, still, but determined not to be a useless lump, Sandor is back on his feet, though with the concession of having bound his shoulder firmly motionless. He doesn't really want it coming apart again. That wouldn't be fun to deal with. And especially not for Phedre.
However, should Ange emerge from her room, he's probably downstairs, peeling an apple with a short knife and looking fairly grumpy, if a bit less so than usual. He might still be a little dazed in some ways by the aftermath more than the injury itself.
Maybe she's going for a cup of tea - and she'll be walking in the kitchen like a quiet little mouse, trying not to disturb the scary, big man with a pointy object.
If you think he's not going to notice you, Angelique, you are a little silly. It's okay. We excuse you the desire not to be noticed by this particular one. However, his eyes narrow and he's watching her through peripheral vision.
"I can still hear you when you creep like that, girl."
"I just didn't want to be in the way, is all," she replies, quietly. "I won't be long to get out, anyway."
"You aren't hardly in the way. Don't be an idiot." Arrrgh. Ow. He rolls his shoulder a little, wincing for the slight pop it still makes.
She glances at him over her shoulder and shrugs, before she sets to making her tea, in perfect silence.
She probably should tell Prince Martell, shouldn't she?
Maeglin is back up, but he's not back together, quite. He keeps it fairly well under the surface. But there's something skulking about the way he moves again, and the twitchy glances over his shoulder aren't quite voluntary. He's more secretive, quieter, less social.
That's probably why Angelique hasn't seen him. But he can't avoid everyone and doesn't really try that hard except with the majority of his family. Especially the strange not-uncle. Him most of all.
When she spots him, she'll stand with her needle work and come sit next to him, in companionable silence.
He can ignore her if he wants, but she is certainly not ignoring him.
He doesn't ignore her, though he's not quite sure what to do with her, either. He tries to summon a false smile, though. "Good morrow, Angelique."
Totally normal! Totally functional! ahahahaha whee.
She smiles back, a little bit. "Good morning, Lomion. It's been a long time. Are you alright?"
"I am - well." Perhaps just the slightest bit high pitched, and it's not really a lie, he's not hurting anymore and mostly he sleeps all right except for the falling dreams but those are nothing new and he hasn't hit the ground yet.
"I'm alright," she replies, a touch too quietly perhaps.