I am not in a mood for merrymaking. [The smile on his face is solely apologetic and he nods deeply to emphasize the apologetic nature of it.

He keeps his hand pressed against the pulse in his neck, expecting it to vanish any moment. It just is not right to have a beating heart. Lord Bolton has been rather thorough regarding the vital organ in his chest. There is a bright side? Really?]

It...seems I am. And that is no consolation. [A while meant not yet but soon enough.] Aye...a prison of some sort. [He still thinks people are having a good laugh at his expense somewhere. And in a way it feels ironic to him, after all, he is the king who lost the North.] And what if a man dies here?