Chapter 14: She Walks In Beauty
The wind blew cold and lonely. Sandor had been smoking as he walked along the deck, staring at the purple sky shot with orange in the west, when strains of classic music reached him. With a frown, he tossed the butt of the cigarette out unto the sea and reached the entrance to First Class, where a young steward nervously bowed and opened the door for him.
"G-good evening, s-sir," the boy stammered.
"Don´t call me sir," he rasped with bored disdain, not even caring to glance in the lad´s direction.
This idiot was just the first one of the night. Everyone aboard this ship were bloody cowards, from First Class right down to steerage. None but two people aboard would look straight at his face, at least not for long. Not that Sandor was bothered by it, since no sooner had he taken two steps away from the steward that he had forgotten the matter, even though all the rich puffed up persons around him were behaving in a similar way, strongly aware of his presence yet pretending to ignore it.
The only thing that they respected was money, and since he didn´t have much by their standards, and was scarred to boot, it was in moments such as these that the contrast between him and the upper class was sharpest. But tonight Sandor Clegane had more important matters on his mind than the fact that he was being the subject of furtive glances by the owners of a wealth that combined would be more than one hundred million dollars.
He glanced around, the splendour of the place spreading out before him. Overhead was the enormous glass dome of wrought iron to admit natural light, with a crystal chandelier at its centre, glinting, it´s light playing across the interior upper landing and the First Class Grand Staircase. If he had to choose, then this was the epitome of the opulent naval architecture of the time, sweeping down six stories of the ship, all the way to E-Deck. Even though they didn´t look that much alike, Sandor found himself remembering the night he had met the little bird back at the Opera House in Paris, right by the Grand Staircase.
His lip twitching slightly, he walked towards the back of the foyer and leaned against a wall next to a gold-plated light fixture, his arms crossed over his chest, waiting. And soon enough a large crowd was descending down to dinner before him, all of them dressed up in their best.
The women were wearing floor length dresses, feathers in their hair, all covered in jewels. As to the men, they were all in evening dress but for him. I wouldn't be caught dead in a penguin suit. I´d look like a bloody pallbearer. Some five minutes later, as Sandor stared at the large carved wooden panel that contained a clock whose face was flanked by the figures of Honour and Glory Crowning Time located at the uppermost landing of the Great Stairway, the Lannister party finally arrived.
He saw Joff come down the stairs first, with his mother on his arm. Neither of them saw him. And just behind them was Sansa, the sole reason why he was standing in the outskirts of the foyer in the first place. She was a vision in pink and black in a low cut dress that showed off her white neck and shoulders, her arms covered in white gloves that came well above her elbows. Sandor actually stopped breathing for a moment, hypnotized by her beauty.
In all it´s majesty, the Titanic could not impress him the way she did. She just shone amidst the swirling throng, and it was almost as if she was floating across the floor. Looking as delicate as a queen, Sandor could not help but compare her to some vision as she went down the stairs with a smile, biding everyone she passed by a good evening. She was the most beautiful thing he´d ever seen, and it ought to have seemed impossible that he had spent this day getting to know who she really was as a person, but somehow it didn´t.
It felt right to know that of all the passengers aboard the ship- out of all the people in the world- Sansa was the only one who truly knew him in return. She was the first person to acknowledge that what Gregor did to me was wrong. She was the first person who didn´t see me as a dog... They had agreed to meet right here later once dinner was over, and yet, the fact that the little bird seemed to feel the weight of his eyes on her even though she had no idea he was in the room seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
There was something between them now, and had it not been for the fact that he was still caught off guard by the sight she presented tonight, Sandor would have found it frustrating to have to keep his distance and pretend as if she meant nothing to him. When their eyes met, he nodded a perfunctory discrete greeting, which she returned with a blazing grin; a smile just for him. And it was in that moment that Sandor Clegane knew he was really fucked up.
He had been heavily suspecting it all day- or if truth be told, maybe he had fought this certainty for the last couple of years, but in either case, it had taken time and the circumstances surrounding them to reach this point, and Sansa´s smile just now decided his fate. This is it, nothing else matters. There´s nothing to wait for anymore. As soon as they left the steerage party he had to act.
Sandor hadn´t returned her smile, but he never broke eye contact while the little bird followed Joffrey and Cersei as they made their way down to the dinning room below. For as long as she could she kept glancing back, apparently unable to stop herself from looking at him, until finally she disappeared from his sight. Letting out a long, heavy breath, he tried to remain calm, even as hundreds of thoughts flashed through his mind.
Today had been the best day of his life, and now everything he had ever believed in had changed. He remembered the sound of Sansa´s laughter, and he smirked at the thought that even though he had spent months without hearing it in the past, today the little bird had laughed so much that surely even if he didn´t hear that sweet music again, the memory of today would stay with him till the day he died.
It was as if her laughter had brought him back to life. Fuck, there´s no more point in denying it. Without her nothing made sense. He had always been good at knowing what people were, and yet Sansa Stark had always managed to surprise him. He had tried so hard to keep her at a distance when they´d first met, and over the years he´d tried to keep her from becoming important to him. And yet here we are now.
Sandor breathed deeply, recalling that he had to keep calm and a clear head, because no matter how sure he was that his new-formed plan would work out somehow, he would still be putting the little bird´s life at risk. He knew better than anyone the power behind the Baratheon steel and Lannister gold, but there was a chance for success, and he had to take it. But now that he had someone to look after, he could not afford any mistakes.
Getting away from the lions won´t be hard. It´s getting out of New York without getting recognized that´s going to present a problem. But Sandor was going to do everything in his power to keep her away from them. And yet, there was the matter of them not having that much money. Sandor didn´t mind that he was going to have to work to earn their living soon enough, but he did resent the fact that he would be unable to withdraw from a bank the money he had been saving for decades.
If only there was a way I could do it without giving our location away to the bloody Lannisters I would do it for the little bird´s sake. But there wasn´t. Still, Sandor knew that the more money they had, the more comfortable a life he could give her. Not that he thought he could ever offer her anything like the life she was accustomed to, but at least he wasn´t going to force her to do anything against her will, or suffocate her. She will be ruined in the eyes of society the moment she runs away with me, but if she stays in this world of overwhelming opulence she will die.
Seven hells, he would rather hurt himself if it came to choosing between dying and being a new cause of misery for her. I couldn´t bear to be the one to bring back pain into her eyes. The burnt corner of his mouth twitched and twitched again as he thought of it all.
I reckon I´m different because of her too though. But it wasn´t out of a sense of paying a debt that Sandor wanted to help her out, but rather because he was deeply thankful to her for the same reasons she was to him: the little bird had listened and talked to him. Sansa´s compassion had overwhelmed him, Sandor was forced to admit.
He wasn´t sure that even by saving her from the lions he would be able to really express how much he appreciated that. But I´ll do my best to prove it to her if she only gives me the chance to try and make her happy every day, for as long as she wants me to. Bloody hells, now that Sandor came to think about it, maybe the little bird´s feelings weren´t the only ones that had sprung from a sense of thankfulness.
I´m one lucky fucked up bastard! He knew that when the moment came to tell Sansa about his plan it would be different, but for now Sandor was calm, confident in his certainty that the little bird would be pleased with his proposal. They were too comfortable in each other´s presence for him to consider things wouldn´t work out like he hoped tonight after they left the steerage dance; after Sansa has enjoyed herself.
It had been so long since that had happened that Sandor was eager to the point of recklessness to grant her this wish- if only for an hour. Under any other circumstances, Sandor would have done everything he could to stop the little bird from risking Joffrey´s wrath, but after her suicide attempt he was desperate to try and find ways to make her see her decision to keep on living had been worth it. Which was bloody tough, seeing as he hadn´t been too fond of life either up until recently.
Still, he reflected, it would have been too cruel for him to help saving her yesterday only to expect her to go on living inside her golden prison. Or too cruel even to refuse her this wish when she had so few rights and so little say in her own life.
And in any case, he was going to try his damn best to keep his feelings for her at bay, because he wanted to make it clear to Sansa from the start that he wasn´t expecting any sort of payment in return, no matter how hard he knew that would be for him remember. No matter how much Sandor wanted her, that was not what mattered at present. How this would work out, he didn't know though.
Sandor would´ve wanted nothing more than to have her return his feelings, but he was not about to fool himself. Seventeen was still a young age, and even if the little bird had already lived through enough shit to make her wise beyond her years, he knew that in other aspects she was still a child.
Even if she does feel something for me now, it´s been born out of a sense of gratitude, he gathered. It was strange to recall that not a day ago he had found her about to kill herself. Remembering how the golden idiot had thanked him for saving Sansa last night still made him ball his hands into fists in anger.
But somehow I helped bring about this change. Sandor felt a pang in his chest at the thought that just by listening and talking with her had brought such an alteration in Sansa. I tested her too. I wanted to know how she would react to certain things… Seven hells, she even challenged me, not one bit afraid of me anymore, he remembered with pride. There´s no fear of judging or condemnation between us now. There´s only truth now.
An awakening was going on inside Sansa, and he would be there to protect her if she wanted to, making sure no more harm came to her as she went through the world she was so eager to discover. And somehow it will all work out, even though they were so different. She was gentle and he was rough. Sansa was soft spoken and he was rude. She was compassionate and he was ruthless. And yet…
The little bird was only seventeen and despite the threat of a future as Mrs. Joffrey Baratheon, she was still full of dreams. And while Sandor was thirty-four, now he only cared about making sure all her wishes came true. He knew that was his only chance at happiness.
A long time later, once Sandor had seen Joffrey disappearing into the smoking room for cigars, coffee and brandy as he talked with the other men about politics, the upcoming rumours of war, finances, businesses and even congratulated each other on being masters of the universe, Sandor crossed the A-Deck foyer and walked up the stairs towards the ornate clock. For a couple of moments he studied it before it softly struck the hour, and when he finally tired around, the first grin of the night appeared in Sandor´s burned face.
Sansa was coming up the sweeping staircase toward him, smiling nervously. Despite everything Sandor looked her up and down appraisingly, which only made the little bird blush prettily. He held his hand out toward her, grinning wider, only to have the smirk wipe off his face the moment she placed her small hand on his.
He gulped, looking down at her with awe, respect, lust, desire and admiration. The dress really set off her curves to perfection and it was not easy to raise his eyes, but when he did, it was the light in her blue eyes as they regarded him what made it hard for Sandor to move. He wanted had a strong desire to tell her how great she looked, but in the back of his mind he knew there was no need for it.
The way he was staring at her left her in no doubt about it. For a moment it seemed as though neither of them knew what to say, but Sansa finally managed to chirp a hello. The moment was gone. She lowered her eyes
"Well," he rasped, a bit hoarsely. "Here we are."
"Here we are," the little bird agreed.
"And now I´m taking you back to your room," he informed her.
Sansa´s eyes widened at that, and her mouth dropped open into a little O of horror. Smirking again, Sandor put a hand on her back and steered her towards the entrance to First Class, even as he barked, "A jest, girl. A bloody jest."
The little bird took his arm as they stepped outside into the night´s cold air, no longer looking mortified. "Oh Sandor, don´t tease me so!" she exclaimed with relief. "The thought of us at the party was the only thing that kept me going as I sat through dinner."
He could not help but snort, and with a raised eyebrow he asked, "It was that bad, was it?"
Leaning closer, the little bird nodded vigorously as they walked across the empty deck. "Well, some parts of it were. For example, the moment we reached the dining saloon, I actually heard Sir Cosmo congratulate Joffrey on how splendid I was, admiring me just as if I were one of his prized show mares!"
Sandor had caught men, both old and young, gaping at Sansa open mouthed more often than he could remember, but since that only made him angry all he could manage in response was to snarl, "That can´t be helped, bird. Who sat with you at the table?"
"Everyone did. The countess of Rothes, Mr. Astor and his wife, Sir Cosmo and Lady Duff- Colonel Gracie, Molly Brown, Benjamin Guggenheim and Madame Aubert, Mr. Andrews, and Mr. Ismay… It really felt for a moment as if dinner was going to go on forever."
He could picture her perfectly sitting between all of those rich idiots, and he pointed out that he was sorry she had to go through with it. But if things work out well, by this time next week we will be far away from this mad circus forever.
"At least I was sitting by Mr. Andrews and Molly Brown, and I like them both," the little bird continued. "You know how he is always writing in his little book?"
Sandor nodded, frowning. He knew very well that Titanic´s naval architect was under Sansa´s spell. That man knows every rivet in this ship. His blood and soul are in it. To the eye´s of the world it belonged to Bruce Ismay, but the biggest liner in the world was possible because of Andrews.
"Well, tonight when I was sick of hearing Cersei´s lies as she told everyone how much she cared for Tommen, I asked Mr. Andrews if I could read what he was writing in his notebook. And do you know what I saw, Sandor? He was scribbling away something about increasing the number of screws in hat hoots from two to three, or some such nonsense. Of course I nonetheless remarked that his ship was truly a wonder, and after he had thanked me for that with a sheepish smile, he actually remarked that I was looking better."
She smiled up at him at that, and Sandor could not help but agree with Andrews, specially after he remembered the state in which he had found her two days ago when he fetched her from the ship´s library, as she talked with the Irishman. After a moment, Sansa continued.
"The dining room is beautiful though," she said. "I hadn´t really paid it much attention before, but tonight I thought it looked like the ballroom of some palace, alive and lit by a constellation of chandeliers, full of elegantly dressed people I don´t really know, and exquisite music from coming from the small orchestra. And yet, no matter how lovely it all was, it took all my strength not to stand up and leave for the real party you´re taking me to. Have I thanked you for it?"
"Only about a dozen times," Sandor rasped, uncomfortable by the awareness that Sansa was growing more and more excited the closer they got to steerage. If she thinks we will be accepted in Third Class, she´s wrong. Nobody wants us in this ship. If there´s a place for us, we´ll have to search long and far for to find it. And as I´ve told you before, there´s no bloody need to thank me. We´re not even going to be there long. An hour at most, I reckon."
"One hour after we arrive?" she teased hopefully.
But Sandor shook his head. "No, one hour starting the moment we met by the clock."
For a moment it looked as if she was about to protest, but gave it up as a lost cause. Nodding briefly in approval, he glanced around to make sure no one was nearby as they reached the gate to go down into third class. As he unlatched it, Sansa asked him if he´d had any supper.
"Yes, before you did," he replied, offering her his hand to help her step down the stairs.
"You ought to have waited until I was having dinner, Sandor. You finished early and had to wait for me for more than an hour."
"I didn´t mind," he assured her with a shrug. "What did you have?"
"I couldn´t eat more than just a mouthful of each course. But I thought the soup of barley and venison was very tasty. As well as the salmon baked in clay and the roast duckling. Of course my favourite dish was the lemon cakes frosted in sugar at the end, but by then I was so stuffed that I could not manage more than two little ones, as much as I love them."
Right in that moment loud music reach them. Sansa had been in the process of removing her white gloves, but at the sound she lowered her head, trying to hide her smirk. "They´re not very good, are they?" she observed.
Sandor made a sound that might have been a laugh. "They´re old deaf women back in London complaining of the din, I´ll warrant. God, my bloody ears, and we haven´t even arrived yet! Here, give me your engagement ring to hide or else whose to say it may not be stolen down there."
Smiling confidently, Sansa handed it to him, before he jerked his head to the right, gesturing that it was time for them to resume their descent, his hand casually on his waistline where his Webley revolver was hidden.
A bear there was, a bear, a bear!
All black and brown, and covered with hair.
The bear! The bear!
Sandor wanted to laugh as that particular song began to play. He knew that it´s true meaning would be lost on the little bird had she been paying any attention to it, but that did not stop him from finding some similarities between it´s words and his current situation with Sansa. At least the bloody band isn´t as bad as we first thought.
The third class general room was crowded and alive with loud music. Such bloody noise would have driven him mad any other night, but tonight was different. Sandor heard laughter and shouts all around him even as the band went on playing The Bear and the Maiden Fair. People of all ages were dancing, drinking beer and wine, smoking, fighting and gambling.
Oh, sweet she was, and pure and fair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
Her hair! Her hair!
The maid with honey in her hair!
What the hell was I thinking bringing her here? Sandor wondered, looking over at the little bird as she talked with Jack Dawson and Tommy Ryan a short distance away from their table. Even in steerage, she bewitches every man she meets. Elbert Broder was sitting to Sandor´s left, and the moment the two young men had approached Sansa, he had asked the German doctor to tell him everything he knew about them.
After Broder was done Sandor could only brood in sullen silence as he kept looking either at Sansa and the men she was with, and the door to the well deck. He didn´t want to miss a single person that went through it, in case he needed to be prepared to hide the little bird if Trant or Blount appeared.
With a frown Sandor remembered hearing those two sons of whores insulting Sansa´s many times, even as they consented she was good looking. Not two days ago he had overheard them comparing Sansa to Cersei Lannister in her youth, trying to decide which was one better.
"In the end, all I wish was for a tailor to take in my skin so that I might look young again, and pretty maids would willingly shower me with kisses."
"Only the blind ones," Sandor has rasped as he passed by them, shoving Boros strongly out of his way.
Trant had hooted at that, exclaiming, "Just so, dog! You´re a good one to talk!"
He laughed coldly. "Think I´m drunk to fall for that one?"
Sandor had walked away unperturbed. Trant was always looking for a way to rouse him, and the fact that Sandor didn´t give him that satisfaction angered the valet even more. Tonight though he was aware of the fact that after what the lions had done to her, it wasn´t that strange that Sansa seemed to enjoy celebrating life by being in the company of company such as himself and everyone else in this room. Anything that is different from them will appeal to her.
Not for the first time he found himself thinking absentmindedly about the segregation between first and third class on the Titanic. A bunk in a shared room in steerage was about thirty-three dollars, while the most expensive staterooms cost more than four thousand. Eight times more than the American average income of five hundred a year. This colossal steel beast really had all the walks from life on board for the experience.
But whether or not this was lost on the little bird as she conversed with her new acquaintances, when they had arrived at the party, she, regal of bearing, had preformed the necessary courtesies among these people as good as if she had been meeting King George and Queen Mary.
She told Elbert his cough was sounding better, complimented the blonde woman who was with Fabrizio Di Rossi on her gown, and questioned Ryan on how his day had been, before praising Dawson for his talent as an artist. She would have made Joffrey a great wife if he´d had the sense to love her, he thought for the hundredth time.
Or maybe in a better world she would have someone like Jack Dawson to protect her. A young man, not some scarred man who was more than a decade older than her. The thought made him uncomfortable, but in the end Sandor knew that it was useless to imagine how things could´ve turned out differently.
Too many what if´s were of no use to anyone. This was the way things were like, but the possibility of changing their future for the better was at least within reach. In any case, someone like Dawson would never be able to live long to tell the tale if he tried to save Sansa himself. The kid didn´t know the Lannisters like he did.
Oh, I´m a maid, and I´m pure and fair!
I´ll never dance with a hairy bear!
A bear! A bear!
I´ll never dance with a hairy bear!
In reality even if he had the bloody right, he shouldn´t be feeling so annoyed at the American and the Irishman talking with the little bird, for even as he kept most of his attention on her, Sansa was returning the gesture. Ever couple of minutes she would lock her gaze with his, and give him a blazing smile that went right through him. Whenever she did this rather than grinning back he would raise his glass to his lips. Not that she seemed to mind his lack of response.
"Miss Stark is a pretty girl," Broder remarked beside him at one point. "As wise as she is lovely."
"And courteous," he agreed. "A proper little lady."
Sandor had imagined Broder would be grinning at him, and when he turned to face him, he wasn´t disappointed.
"I´ve always thought that all men are fools and all men are knights, where women are concerned," his friend remarked, stroking his beard.
Sandor snorted, annoyed. "I need your advice, not your bloody wit."
"But I don´t think you need my help, Sandor. I trust you know what you are doing, and I´m certain that anything I could come up with to try and change your mind wouldn´t work. Am I wrong?"
Nodding, Sandor barked briefly, "No… But do you agree with it?"
He hadn´t told Broder anything about his plan yet, but it hadn´t surprised him that the German doctor seemed to suspect it. Elbert nodded, a faint smile appearing on his face.
After a moment of hesitating, Sandor settled his intent gaze on Sansa once again, and asked, "And do you think she´ll agree too?"
His heart stopped beating for a moment or two, as long as it took Broder to answer. Finally the man replied, "I don´t know her as you do, but I think she will. And if she does you´ll be the luckiest man on Earth, and I pity anyone who tries to stop the two of you from saving each other. Whether it is the man she is engaged to, or Jack Dawson."
"I can´t help it," Sandor admitted, realizing that for all his troubles the sight he presented was that of a jealous dog. This is mad. "I don´t like them… I don´t really like anyone."
"But you like her and me. And your conduct is understandable. We´ve always known that you´ve felt protective of her from the start… I want you to know that I am very happy for you, my friend. I´m glad things are looking up for you at last."
Then she sighed and squealed and kicked the air!
My bear! She sang. My bear so fair!
And off they went, from here to there,
The bear, the bear, and the maiden fair.
They were seating on a table close the dance floor. Sandor shot Jack bloody Dawson a murderous look as he leaned down to whisper something in Sansa´s ear, the stupid Tommy Ryan still prattling on to the both of them. His mouth twitching, Sandor raised his first mug of the night and drained it straightaway, his eyes never leaving her. He grabbed another one, but only placed it between his hands.
Some five minutes later she came rushing to his side, almost jumping in excitement, feeling the exhilaration of the moment, of the atmosphere. "Oh Sandor, would you like to dance?"
His eyes widened at that. What the fuck? Trying to ignore the fact that she´d asked him loudly before Elbert and Dawson, Sandor shook his head and lowered his gaze to his drink, unwilling to see the disappointment in her eyes.
"I´ll dance with you!" Jack volunteered at once.
Sandor looked up at the boy at that, and studied him in silence. He could not say a word against that. He had no right.
Intimidated but standing his ground, the painter stared him straight in the face, earning some of Sandor's grudging resect. Jack went on, "But you´ll have to wait till the next one, cause I have to go to the restroom. Come Tommy, I´m sure you want to go just as much as I do!"
He returned his gaze to Sansa as she agreed to Dawson´s proposition. The moment the boys had moved away after bloody winking at her, Sandor was unable to keep his curiosity at bay any longer.
"What the fuck were you all talking about back there?" he asked, annoyed.
Sansa laughed. "Silly stuff, really. Tommy was telling me that the accommodations in steerage were quite good on this ship, and then Jack pointed out that it was the best he´d ever seen since there were hardly any rats! And then I asked him how he had means to travel and he replied that he worked from place to place, on tramp steamers and such. But all of that is of no matter… Sandor, won´t you please dance with me?"
There was no need for him to answer her. She saw his refusal plain in his eyes. The little bird didn´t hold it against him though. Instead she grabbed one of the beer tankards on the table and said, "I don´t like the taste, but I want us to have a toast! You too Dr. Broder. Come, join me!"
I would rather this was wine, Sandor thought. A flagon of sour red, dark as blood, was all a man needed. Or a woman. He laughed as he shook his head, and, amused by her enthusiasm, pointed out, "You can´t hold your beer, little bird."
"Oh, don´t tease me, Sandor," she replied fervently. "I know I´m not being very ladylike tonight, but at least I´m glad you find it amusing. Everyone else I know would be horrified… Anyways, let´s toast to making it count!"
Never taking her eyes off him, Sansa tried to drink in little gulps as much of her beer as she could manage. Broder drank his tankard straight away, but Sandor barely touched his.
She noticed this. "You don´t drink as much as you used to, do you?"
Sandor raised an eyebrow at her. Except for the one time when he has told her the secret of his scars, the little bird had never seen him drunk. She had no way of knowing he had been a drunkard, or that he was now far into the process of recovering. Or that she was the cause. Thinking of the irony of it all, Sandor made a sound that was almost a laugh.
"What´s so funny?" Elbert wanted to know.
"If I wanted the pair of you to know, I´d have told you already," he barked in reply.
"Sandor, don´t be mean," the little bird chirped in.
A moment later she was gone as Jack came back for her. He watched the boy help her up unto the raised platform, and then the music started playing. Sandor saw them facing each other and knew that at once that the little bird was hesitating because she didn´t know the steps. Not that it mattered to the bloody young fool, for after drawing her closer they were off, a bit awkward at first, but a couple of moments later Sansa had the hang of it. Sandor´s mouth began to twitch.
The party was rowdy and rollicking, Sandor noticed as a table got knocked over after a drunkard crashed into it. And in the middle of it all his eyes were focused on Sansa as she danced with Jack, her dress´s long tail tied into a knot to her side to keep people from stepping on it. The steps got faster, but he could see the little bird was enjoying herself as never before.
A space opened around them on the raised platform, and people began watching them, clapping as the band went on and on. At long last though, it all ended in a mad rush. The sodding painter stepped away from Sansa with a flourish, allowing her to take a bow. He watched Sansa do a graceful ballet move, making everyone present laugh and applaud. Sandor didn't need to be a good judge of wine to know she was drunk, unlike himself.
I never thought I would live to see the day when Sansa Stark not only enjoyed entertaining the poor, but was also a hit with them. She was walking towards their table again across the pine panelling room, avoiding the sturdy teak furniture scattered in her way, flushed and sweaty, and escorted by Jack.
When she reached him, the little bird grabbed Sandor´s cigarette from his mouth without asking, an impish little grin on her pretty face, and brought it to her pretty mouth, puffing on it. The sight of her being cocky made Sandor grin widely. That is until the Irishman suddenly appeared beside them, offering big pints to both Sansa and Jack.
She accepted hers and hoisted it with both hands to her mouth and tried to drain it´s contents in one long drink, showing off. Sandor could see the muscles in her neck working as she gulped. When she placed it back down on the table, half the drink was gone.
"What, you think a first class girl can´t drink?" she asked them with a raised eyebrow when she was done and realized the four of them were staring at her.
Sandor snorted, barely registering that the dancing had started again as her words and actions caused general laughter. A moment later he was standing up in anger as a drunk stranger crashed into Tommy, who ended up sloshing been over Sansa´s dress.
"You stupid bastard!" he roared.
He was about to lunge at the man when Broder stopped him, putting a restraining hand on his arm. "I know you have a fierce bark and a sharper bite, my friend. But let´s not draw unwanted attention."
Sandor took a long moment to calm down, inwardly cursing himself for not thinking about what Elbert had just pointed out. When the little bird felt certain he wasn´t about to get into a fight, she chuckled, assuring him that she didn´t mind it at all. The stranger, noticing Sandor wasn´t about to attack him anymore, lowered his fists.
Looking about him with contempt, Sandor knew that this lot of gnats wasn´t worth the bother of starting a fight. Elbert clapped his back, even as Sansa remarked to the five men, "You think you´re big tough men? Let´s see you do this!"
And then, to Sandor´s amazement, she took off her high heel shoes and standing in her stocking feet, she assumed some ballet position, arms raised. As delicate as a queen she went up, her entire weight on the tips of her toes. Sandor, Broder, Jack, Tommy and the stranger gaped at her incredible muscle control for a long time, before she finally came down, her face screwed up in pain.
"I haven´t done that in years," she exclaimed, grabbing her foot, jumping around.
A moment later she had lost her balance, but Sandor was faster this time. He caught her before she stumbled, and Sansa leaned in on him. He didn´t feel like letting her go, specially after she seemed unwilling to move either, but aware that they were being watched by the others and that for once her courtesies had failed her since she hadn´t thanked him yet, Sandor spared her the need to speak. Some things were better left unsaid.
He steadied her and pointed out, "We must get back."
He finished his second drink of the night in two gulps and settled it down hard on the table as the little bird bid everyone a good night, a new gale of laughter erupting around them from the gambling table to their right.