[ Gray shrinks a little with mortification when Mordred bursts into laughter, a redness unrelated to her injuries flooding her cheeks. She nearly withdraws her offering, feeling every bit the idiot Mordred calls her, but first it's plucked from her hand. Gray sighs a little, maybe with relief, maybe to release some pent-up embarrassment.

Mordred's raucous laughter combined with the name-calling reminds her of Add, and in turn Sir Kay. Maybe everyone in the Round Table was a little rough like this. She slowly lowers her hand so that it can join the other in cradling her half of sandwich. ]

... Thank you. It was hard to discuss this kind of thing before... because the people of my village would never have understood. And to everyone else, this is just "my" face.

[ It shouldn't be a big deal. Objectively this is a pleasant face; some might even be jealous enough to trade places with her. Only her mentor and Mordred have understood its horror at a glance, and it's difficult for Gray to convey the importance of that to her. ]

I'm still not sure why this happened to me. I can't imagine I'm anything like King Arthur.