"You don't belong down here," I said to the large man standing by the entrance to the kitches. He filled the entire doorway. His eyes were hard and cruel and the entire right side of his face was burnt. The scar on his face marked him as the Hound, Sandor Clegane.
"You should speak kinder to those above you," he replied calmly.
"That is why I work here. I need not speak to anyone. But why are you down here?"
"Getting myself some wine."
I shrugged and he walked over to an unopened cask.
"You are not going to stop me from taking the King's wine?" he asked, almost as a challenge.
"How would I do that, Clegane? You are at least twice my size."
"I would not hurt you," he casually said as he exited. "Truly, I enjoy you. You are not afraid of me."