Elena shrugs off his silence, she knows she's right. And picks up her pace as well. She's not letting him go that easily.

"Lance, honestly, no wonder you're wound so tight! It's so much work and duty and walking," certainly not the fault of pesky bards! "You need to let go and have fun! Drink! Be merry! Lance, Lance ..."

She suddenly grabs one of his hands in both of hers, staring up at him with eyes full of genuine concern .

"... When was the last time you've greened your trousers?"