It was wonderful to see Hot Pie, but their reunion was only a few minutes because he was scurrying around in the kitchen, overseeing the whole thing now, and couldn't be spared. They hugged, they talked, they agreed to meet up after the dinner hour was over. And Arya sat down next to the Hound in the dining room, in a really good mood, to eat and drink and wait for him.

Eating and drinking was going fine, until a drunk boy came to bother her. "What's a pretty girl like you doing with an ugly beast like him?"

She could see from the way the Hound stiffened that he'd heard that, but he just buried his face in his drink and ignored it.

She didn't. If she wanted her traveling companion insulted, she would damn well do it herself. "I'm fucking him," she said clearly. "Every night. He's really good at it." The boy's shock was funny, so she went on. "Want to see? I can hold you down, and he'll fuck you too."

At that, the Hound turned slowly in his seat to glower at her. And at the poor boy, who sat frozen with his mouth wide open.

The boy got up and left without another word. She thought it was hilarious.

The Hound didn't. "Next time just say I'm your father," he muttered into his drink. "For fuck's sake."

The boy had fled all the way across the room. She couldn't stop giggling. Perhaps she was getting drunk. (Hot Pie was right; the wine was really good.).

The Hound was ignoring her, except to periodically glance her way and glare, so she looked for amusement elsewhere. There was another boy, at another table, who kept trying to catch her eye. She smiled, bit her lip, and played eyeball tag with him until he took the bait and came over.

"Hello," this one said, "My name is-"

"This is my father," Arya interrupted, reaching up to drape her arm over the Hound's shoulder. "I'm fucking him. Every night. He's really good at it. Want to see? I can-"

"Fuck off!" The Hound threw her off, almost hard enough to knock her over, and sent the poor boy scurrying away with a wordless snarl.

She tried to stop laughing, but couldn't. When he gave her a look of helpless exasperation she really couldn't, and laughed so hard she had to grab on to him or fall out of her seat.

"Enough already," he growled.

"Sorry." She was still laughing. "He annoyed me. What should I have done, eat all his chicken and cut his head off?" She looked around. "That would kind of spoil the atmosphere, don't you think?"

"You're drunk." She giggled through closed lips and didn't bother to deny it. "Everybody else got drunk and ridiculous the night after the battle – that's what you're supposed to do. Not save it up to annoy me with two weeks later."

"I didn't feel like being drunk then."

"And apparently tonight you do." He took her glass from her hand. "But that's drunk enough."

"It is not!" She tried to reach over him and take it back.

He stiff-armed her and lifted her half out of her seat, by the neck. (The last person to grab her this way had got a Valyrian steel dagger in the guts and shattered into a million tiny frozen pieces, but, she didn't reach for a knife or anything because she was feeling magnanimous and really just wanted her drink back.). He looked her over – and looked amused. "You planning to meet up with that fat boy from the kitchens?" he said.

She didn't understand. "You mean Hot Pie? Yes, I said so."

"Do you want to fuck him or fight him?"

"Do I-…?" Arya blinked. "No."

The Hound smirked at her and put her down. "Get any drunker, and you're going to do one of the two." He held her drink out to her and waited.

"Nobody asked your stupid opinion," she said, but poured herself some water instead.

(And he drank her wine.).

TBC.

Poor Arya never really cuts loose. She should!