The phone vibrates against the nightstand, a harsh, rhythmic buzz that cuts through the humid air of the suite, the screen flashing PA in stark, illuminated letters. Aru glances at it, the light catching the sharp angle of her jaw, before her eyes slide back to Arya. A defiant glint hardens her gaze, a silent refusal that speaks louder than any rejection of the call. She doesn’t reach for it. She doesn’t falter. Instead, she presses her palms flat against Arya’s chest, her fingers splaying wide over his pectorals, and pushes him down, pinning his shoulders deeper into the mattress.