[ That fierce look is lifted from the ghost of Neds past, and steered up at Sansa, appalled at first at the news of strange men appearing in kitchens, until understanding inevitably settles in. Remembering herself, she lifts her hand off the younger woman, curling inwards towards her chest.

This sounds a little familiar, but just to make sure--

She moves, then, between man and girl, closing the distance within a few slow steps. He continues to stare over her head, mournfully, focused utterly on Sansa. Tentatively, Daenerys reaches up -- mostly so that Sansa can see -- and goes to touch his shoulder. Her fingers pass through, and trail nothing behind. ]

I had heard a little of these phantoms, [ she says, then, relaxing just a fraction. She tips her head, studying the face of this man, before turning as if to dismiss him. ] They are visions only. Why they haunt us so, doubtless someone will come out with some sort of explanation.

[ Or confession. There's always a person at the heart of these things. ]