-since no one cares who Sansa Stark is other than my brother and, presumably, you.
He makes no notion one way or another, neither to agree nor disagree. She can sit with her own thoughts on that without his input.
"I'd cut their tongues out for the fun of it," he answers vaguely, his mouth half full, then gestures to her plate with his fork. "Shut up and eat your food. You don't need the appetite of a bird, too."
At that, he'll lapse into comfortable silence for the remainder of their shared meal. When the time comes to pay the tab, he covers it without question and without expecting a thanks — and after, will walk her politely to her quarters as if he's still her guard, as if this were Kings Landing rather than a fucking blood drinker's city in an entirely different realm. Some things don't change much. Sandor Clegane is one of them. Frankly, it just feels nice to pretend like he's some semblance of purpose again.
no subject
He makes no notion one way or another, neither to agree nor disagree. She can sit with her own thoughts on that without his input.
"I'd cut their tongues out for the fun of it," he answers vaguely, his mouth half full, then gestures to her plate with his fork. "Shut up and eat your food. You don't need the appetite of a bird, too."
At that, he'll lapse into comfortable silence for the remainder of their shared meal. When the time comes to pay the tab, he covers it without question and without expecting a thanks — and after, will walk her politely to her quarters as if he's still her guard, as if this were Kings Landing rather than a fucking blood drinker's city in an entirely different realm. Some things don't change much. Sandor Clegane is one of them. Frankly, it just feels nice to pretend like he's some semblance of purpose again.