Nak Nak Nak Nak Nak Nak.

[Darth Vader]

Jon exhaled sharply through his nostrils as he'd pause, hearing the floating child address him once more. The boy was irritating, of course. Yet Jon was trying his hardest to bite his tongue and not retaliating, with word or fist (though honestly, the kid was floating above their heads, so Jon couldn't really hit him even if he wished to). It wasn't a hard thing to do, mind. Keeping his mouth closed was a talent that Jon was remarkable at. If the days of being grilled into by Ser Alliser didn't teach him it, the prudent advice of one Tyrion Lannister did. Wear what he was as though it was armour of a cloak, and it could never be used to hurt you.

He craned his head to look up at Adam. Still floating... Jon grunted mentally. How the bloody hell's he doing that?. He overheard what he said about him not being able to walk, and felt a bit of sympathy for the boy, in part. His brother Bran couldn't walk, either. Not after he fell from that tower... Jon reminisced. As they had travelled, Jon's memory had return to him somewhat, his banging headache being layed to rest completely. He could remember his family and friends well, thought not what happened to them, where they are now. And... home. The warmth of the evening fire... playing in the snow with Robb.] Jon bit down hard on his lower lip as the memories flushed back to him, trying to keep a guarded expression. That was always safe. If nobody could read how he felt, then nobody could read what he was thinking. Ever.

"It was customary I wore this, back where I come from. Being the Lord Commander of the ancient order of the Nights Watch, after all." Jon stated, dryly and coolly. He knew nobody at all would understand what he was on about, but he had a half-hearted hope that the mention of authority would drive the irritating child Adam away. Jon straightened his posture somewhat, removing his loose grip on Crona's shoulder, staring up at Adam intently.