Oh, Lydia and her begrudging compliance with whatever wacky menial pursuit befalls the Dragonborn. You can almost hear the "this? really? Ugh... fine." carrying on the breeze, as you stand by the entrance of some moldy burial site teeming with annoyed Hagravens, or drink stolen kegs from Honningbrew Meadery then try to seduce Argis the Bulwark again, or just spend a week in the wilderness picking pretty blue flowers.

And you are just about to turn around and tell her that if she has such a big PROBLEM with your HERO'S WORK then she can turn right around and go snark at some mudcrabs, because you're already halfway sh*tting your pants here and the last thing you need is some grouchy naysayer cramping your vibe.

...And then she gets herself killed and you tearfully load the last save whispering "all is forgiven".