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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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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."

"No, that was not meant to be. I have a duty here that I neglected," Jon said, lips turning up in a half smile.

"And I betrayed my vows. While I can visit here, I do not think I will ever come back or seek out a life here. I am much happier with Leah back in the hotel even if I do miss the snow."

Simmons had taken her own oath, but she knows that if Fitz were in trouble, she would probably stuff the oath because it didn't matter when the people you loved were in danger. True, she hadn't exactly told him that, but she likes to think she will one day. "Leah?" Simmons pokes. "Who's Leah?"

"My love. She came here with me from the island. That is one door that I have not been able to find again."

Jon did not understand that, considering this hotel had doors to every other place he could imagine, but any attempts to find his way back to the island and to his brothers and nephew had been fraught with frustration. He could not find the door he sought, no matter how much he wanted to.

Simmons wouldn't mind an island. After all, it would be nice to have a little getaway, but she honestly doesn't think she'd want to go there unless she had Fitz at her side. "Well, at least she's here with you," Simmons opines, teeth chattering as she tries to acclimate to the cold. "Is it always like this here?"

"Yes. Summer never comes to the Wall, though sometimes it gets warm enough that a little of the ice will melt," Jon explained.

"Winter will last for years. We do not know when it will end."

"Years?" Simmons replies, her mouth open. "And here I thought a long winter in London was something to get in a snit about," she jokes dryly, though her smile twitches as she knows it's not her best material. "How can that be climatalogically possible? Winter shouldn't last that long. Unless you're from a different planet," she says. "Maybe you're an alien!"

"It has been this way ever since I have been alive," Jon explained. "The maesters say that it hadn't always been that way, that the seasons may have something to do with the Doom of Valyria but that happened a world away from Westeros. I am not sure how it would affect things even still."

He kept his steps in a narrow path. "Step in my footprints, there will be less snow that way. I was born in winter, I am used to it."

Simmons has basically decided in her head that he's an alien and nothing is going to distract her from this thought. She follows behind him, but she does pop down to scrape a bit of soil into a little bit of folded up paper to be analyzed later in a private lab. She wants to know as much as she can about this odd world, no matter how she has to do it.

"Well, I was born in London," she jokes, "so if you give me a grey sky, I'm genetically programmed to cope with it with tea."