(I will rarely use Danish with Gertrude, but I figured she lived in Denmark so long a few words would still slip into her vocabulary sometimes. I'll always provide the translation. 

min kære - my dear

ingen - no)

~x~

Matte lips, a dark shade of posy lifted up at the corners lightly, eyeing the Constable Macbeth saunter towards the two men under lidded eyes.Gertrude herself hadn't had much contact with the fumbling constable - she wasn't much for small talking with blue collars - but she surmised from the few encounters she did have with him that he was a kind man, if not  bit incompetent at his job. Still, the population of Stratford liked him well enough, something that it seemed the two gentlemen did not, judging by their hesitant, mechanic replies. They either weren't a fan of the police, or a fan of anyone at all. 

Gertrude brushed a strand of silky hair behind her ear. It was probably a bit of both. Their actions were familiar of the men Hamlet, and of late, her husband as well had been in company of. Not entirely honest, filthy rich and with a crooked grin to hide their crooked ways. Gertrude wrapped her fingers around the stick of the toffee apple, musing. It was generally best to look the other way when in company of such man. The constable should learn that.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of someone taking the seat next to her on the bench, and Gertrude darted her eyes to the offender. The girl was unmistakably  one Lavinia Andronicus - skittish demeanor, big hazel eyes and most notably, missing hand. Gertrude couldn't see it, but she knew it was there - everyone knew about Lavinia. Gertrude herself had been horrified by the act, but what could she have done? She knew more of the girl's father, Titus, than of the girl however. She had in fact enjoyed speaking to the man whenever she went to the butcher's shop, which by all accounts should have been done by her maid. Gertrude liked the fresh air, however, and the witty banter that the old man had provided. It was a shame he had cracked underneath the pressure of his daughter's attack.

"You're Titus's daughter, aren't you, min kære?" Gertrude murmured, delicately eyeing the young woman's grip on the bench they sat upon. "I used to buy my meats from your father. He was a good man. He still is, though perhaps a bit cracked. You can always glue together the broken, however."  The elder woman was going to say more, but was distracted by the conversation going on behind her. Lips pursed, she rolled the toffee apple to the young woman sitting beside her and stood gracefully. 

"Take it, darling. Something sweet to cheer you up." And then she walked over to the crowd of three whom had been behind Lavinia and her, tapping the constable on the shoulder lightly and flicking her eyes towards the other two men, steely grey hardening for a moment, as if a mother scolding her children, before focusing her attention on Macbeth. 

"Constable! It's not very festive of you to be bothering these two lovely men on what is supposed to be such a cheerful night." Gertrude smiled softly. "Ingen, you should let them be. The commotion might upset dear Lavinia." And she tilted her heads towards the girl, as if to bring notice to her.