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The door to Westeros was unassuming and like every other door in the hotel but Jon found that he always knew where it was and how to get it to open so it wasn't a broom closet and it was a way back home. He had been tempted a few times but had never ventured more than a few steps, just satisfying himself with the crunch of his boots against fresh-fallen snow. Today, though, he meant to go further.

Ghost was restless with having been cooped up in the hotel for weeks and while neither of them had liked the heat of the island, there had at least been the jungle to explore and hunt. The places the hotel led were stranger still and none of them that he had found so far had the kind of place he felt comfortable letting Ghost roam in, except one: Westeros. The North had always been his home and after Winterfell, the Wall and Castle Black had become as much a home as a bastard boy would ever have. It was dangerous to go back there considering his own men had tried to kill him but he thought he might journey to one of the other castles, one long abandoned due to simply not having enough men to garrison it.

Rimegate and Sable Hall were far enough away from the manned castles to be safe enough and would provide shelter should the snows grow too deep. Jon wasn't in fear of that. He was well-acquainted with how to survive in the North and knew how best to keep himself safe and warm should a storm come up. It was here that he felt more comfortable than anywhere else - be that the hotel, the island or somewhere in between. It was here that his purpose lay.

"Come, Ghost. Let's go home for a little while and see if anything has changed."

[Find Jon at the open door that leads back to Westeros, which is very snowy and cold at the moment.]

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Simmons perks up cheerfully when she's acknowledged, as if she's a girl on a school trip and has been picked by the teacher to explain the precise reason they're where they are. "Westeros, specifically the North," she makes a mental note, locking it away to make sure she doesn't forget it. "Is it? Dangerous?"

"Very dangerous," Jon said sullenly. "I am willing to bring you through but you should recognize that danger." It was a liability, more than likely, but Jon did not intend to run across any other people while he hunted here. He thought if he skirted between Eastwatch and Castle Black, he would avoid any patrols; the Night's Watch has ever been shorthanded.

"Stick close to me, if you intend to follow."

Simmons knows that she ought to flinch more at danger, especially after all the things that she's seen in the field, but that tiny adventurous voice that pipes up in the back of her head reminds her that there's so much to see and do and being scared won't help. "Stick close to..." Simmons perks up and grabs the nearest coat from a rack, even though it's not hers. "I won't step two feet out of sight," she swears.

"Be careful that you don't. The snows can blow up quickly here and make it difficult to follow a path," Jon said, tone softening just a little. Perhaps he had been just a little too harsh in his assessment earlier.

"I would not want to lose someone out here."

Simmons doesn't know how she's been so lucky to have found such an opportunity, but she can already hear Fitz in her brain telling her that it's impulsive and not very well planned at all. "I don't suppose there's a fur depot somewhere around where I can pick up something warmer?" she suggests apprehensively. "I didn't exactly dress for the weather."

Jon always made a point to wear more furs than he needed if only because the unforeseen often happened while in the wilds. He shrugged off his heavy black cloak and offered it to her.

"This should keep you warmer than what you have right now. It isn't something I need right this moment. We can find more furs where we're going."

Simmons blushed as she took the fur into her hands, unused to receiving such lovely things from men. Well, that wasn't true. She supposed that Fitz did give her nice things from time to time, but they're always science based and sometimes a girl just wants a fur. "Well, then, lead on!" she says, trying to bluster her way into some bravery. "Onwards to...the North," she says, pointing forward even though she has no real idea what she's doing.

"It is a dangerous place," Jon warned her. "But beautiful, in a way. It is where I grew up and the place I will always consider my home."

The North's strange, white beauty was something he did not expect someone from the South to understand, just as he couldn't understand the beauty in a large city or a tropical clime. Beauty would always mean snow and ragged cliffs to Jon.

Dangerous and beautiful sounded like something that they encountered every day with the job. 0-8-4s were often incredibly dangerous things, but so beautiful. Even the spark that had nearly taken her life had been so simple and perfect the first time she had seen it. "Okay," she said, nodding eagerly as she decided to dive headlong into the adventure.

"One favour? Can we not tell anyone named Leopold Fitz about this?" she floated the notion innocently.

"Leopold Fitz? I do not know anyone called that," Jon said, trying to decide if it was a house he'd ever heard of in Westeros. It did not seem familiar but that was not all that uncommon, considering the hotel (and the island before it) were populated from people that hailed from numerous other worlds. Few of them had been from Westeros.

"What does he look like? I cannot avoid telling him if I do not know who to look out for."

"Oh good!" Simmons says, brighter now. "How about we let him stay as a mysterious figure in the dark?" she continues, plucking and tugging at the fabric of the clothing on his torso. "We don't need to know who Fitz is," she insists, shaking her head. "Hardly for something like exploring!"

After all, she really would like to avoid getting in trouble.

"I will avoid him if I can," Jon said, frowning a little and trying to decide if he had ever met anyone named Fitz while at the hotel. It was not a name that he recalled offhand but that did not mean he had not met him at least once; hopefully he did not inadvertently break his promise to her.

"Have you ever hunted or tracked before?"

"Well," she draws out the word, needling it until it's reedy and thin and he has to know that whatever she's about to say is the semantics. "In a way?" she offers. "I've tracked plenty of things before! Throughacomputerandusingdrones," she mumbles the rest of that sentence very, very quickly.

Jon was familiar with the word computer but only because of his sojourn on the island. It was never something he'd ever used before and certainly never something he had ever seen in Westeros. He guessed here in the hotel, he would eventually have to learn to use one if only because so many things seemed to depend upon using them - but he had no idea where to start.

"I know what a computer is but I have never used one, especially not for tracking and hunting. You are able to do that with a machine? And not your own eyes and ears and nose?"

"Well, it takes some complicated logarithm software and Fitz is better at the computer programs than I am, but I try and keep up. I always loved spending a good night in, wearing my pajamas, coding," she says dreamily, but remembers that there are other, dreamier things near him.

Namely, the gorgeous man beside her. "Why are we talking about this?" she asks, laughing awkwardly. "I believe you mentioned a North?"

"I did," Jon said, trying to decide how he could approach the subject in a different way so she might answer. He was interested in what she had to say, terribly interested, and hoped they could keep talking about it.

"Come on. We'll follow our tracks back to this door."

Simmons bit her lower lip to prevent any excitable noises from ekeing out, but she truly was eager to go somewhere that wasn't the Bus and wasn't the hotel. She had grown a bit eager of a need to escape, just for a few moments, because being in a place she didn't recognize with only strangers was...well, promising. "You've hunted and tracked before, I take it?"

"Most of my life," Jon agreed. He was much more comfortable out here in the woods than inside the hotel but he also knew the hotel held other advantages; nobody in the hotel knew who he was or felt the need to bury a knife in his back because he was lord commander. The hotel was safe, in the way the island was safe, but the hotel did not have his brothers or nephew.

While he wished there was a way back to the island he thought that door would be closed to him for forever now. There would be no going back to that world now and there was nothing to do but press on.

"I held my first sword at seven. I drew my first bow when I wasn't much older than that."

Simmons sometimes wonders if she could have been a similar prodigy if she had been weapons-oriented, but her only interest lay in designing them. "There's someone I work with who seems as though she's done the same. I don't think I've ever seen anyone quite as talented with a sword as she is," Simmons raves. "Though I obviously can't compare the two of you objectively without a platform of set areas to assess," she says, drawing his coat tighter around her as they walked. "Perhaps I'll do something like that," she muses distractedly.

"Test how I am with a sword?" Jon said, wondering if that would be worth the time spent. He had never been terribly academic about anything, though he knew there were others who might have an interest in such things.

"You could, if you wanted. I don't know how interesting it would be."

"Well, I could judge your movements based on the optimal range of motion using the principles of physics to improve lethality, speed, and..." She pauses, smiling ruefully. "Or maybe we should just focus on exploring and I will try not to work today," she says, because that does seem like the better idea, right now.

"Up until a year or so ago, I devoted every waking moment to my duty."

After having been on the island some months, Jon had finally realized there was joy to be found in seeking one's own pleasures and desires and not pushing them down in service of a higher authority.

Simmons stops for a moment, processing the words and making a deduction. By the time she actually is sure of it, she has to pick up the pace and nearly run after him. "What happened a year ago?" she asks curiously. "If you don't mind talking about it?"

"I realized I was trapped in a situation I could not change," Jon said, quirking up a little smile.

"I also fell in love. Both of these things contributed to the fact that I sought out pleasure and joy in something other than my duty for once in my life. I came here from an island that...trapped its residents and did not allow them to leave. This is the first time I have returned home in two years or so."

Simmons rubs at her palm, which is a nervous tic that someone is going to notice one day. She really needs to work on not being so obvious. "Falling in love can be a wonderful thing," she opines, following him and offering a smile of her own. "It's only a shame you couldn't have the best of both worlds."