[ Something funny happens to his name in her mouth: its edges are blunted, a blade smoothed. He's never heard it said this way before, and his face crinkles in confusion, but then again, he is not sure he has heard anyone speak the way she does, and he has passed more than a handful of hours with soldiers from all across the realm. His name is hardly queer, in sound or connotation, and he makes a point of enunciating how it should sound. ]

Jaime. They'll know it. [ They'll know his last name, if they know nothing else. Even now his father will be scheming a way to win back his son's freedom, and this thought broaches another. He turns onto his back, finding nothing of fascination to look upon in the ceiling above, but searching the blank span anyway. ]

You'd be wise to tell them you're some kin of mine, if you want to see daylight anytime soon. [ His House was known for its alarming fertility, after all; she could easily be some twice-removed cousin or niece or sister or otherwise forgettable Lannister. She had the hair, not to mention the imperial and unpleasant attitude. If their captors were interested in riches, as most captors were, they would be quick to barter with that golden name. Lannisters always paid their debts, and how would they know she wasn't one, in truth? ]