[She lets out a hoarse grunt as his arms tighten on her, knocking a little more wind out of her. Her own grip tightens again in answer, a sharp jerk against his windpipe. So much for goodwill.]
[And of all the things he could offer her, he offers her a fucking horse. As if he thinks he can wave his hand and have a palfrey trot through the bars into their cell. As if he thinks she would wonder at a decent horse, as if her father didn't breed the finest horses in all Mejis, as if a spoiled brat who thinks himself a gunslinger would know shit about horses beyond that they can look good and carry him well. As if she could so easily forget the last man who deigned to "give" her horses - horses that had been hers all along, delivered as trinkets with an air of such great benevolence.]
[Offering her a horse, under the circumstances, is probably the worst thing he could have done. Now alongside of Clay Reynolds, he's reminding her of Hart Thorin, and sure, Thorin's dead, but that doesn't mean she hates him any less.]
You don't have a fucking horse. [She grinds it out through her teeth, wondering whether it would make him let go quicker if she gave up on bargaining and tried for a knee in the ribs instead.] And a horse won't get me down from here, so let go.
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[And of all the things he could offer her, he offers her a fucking horse. As if he thinks he can wave his hand and have a palfrey trot through the bars into their cell. As if he thinks she would wonder at a decent horse, as if her father didn't breed the finest horses in all Mejis, as if a spoiled brat who thinks himself a gunslinger would know shit about horses beyond that they can look good and carry him well. As if she could so easily forget the last man who deigned to "give" her horses - horses that had been hers all along, delivered as trinkets with an air of such great benevolence.]
[Offering her a horse, under the circumstances, is probably the worst thing he could have done. Now alongside of Clay Reynolds, he's reminding her of Hart Thorin, and sure, Thorin's dead, but that doesn't mean she hates him any less.]
You don't have a fucking horse. [She grinds it out through her teeth, wondering whether it would make him let go quicker if she gave up on bargaining and tried for a knee in the ribs instead.] And a horse won't get me down from here, so let go.