Sandor
The girl's comment threw him off. She was glad he was still a bitter, gruff old dog? He stared at her. "Don't look so suspicious," she giggled softly. "It's nice to see you, truly." Now he was even more confused, but Sandor wasn't about to let her know that. "Well, you've certainly changed," he growled back, leaning towards her. "Used to be you could stand my ugly face, much less speak two words to me." Sansa's smile faded, and she looked troubled. "I know. I'm…I'm sorry for that." She sighed, and rested her head against the seat. "You were always kind to me in Kings Landing, and I never showed you much gratitude, did I?" Sandor snorted. "Spare me your apologies. I'm not kind. And I don't want gratitude." It was a lie, but this girl was quickly latching herself under his skin once more, and Sandor both hated and reveled in the feeling.
"What do you want?" she asked. You'll never know, he thought, and let the question hang in the empty air. This time he turned away from her.
They sat in silence until the plane began to move towards the runway. The fasten seatbelts light turned on, and Sansa fumbled in the sides of her seat, looking for the belt before clipping it together. She took a deep breath and gripped the armrests. Sandor watched her, curious. Was she afraid of flying?
The plane was soon climbing into the sky, and the girl relaxed her grip. Sandor chuckled, and she whipped her head around at him. "What?" "I was just thinking that it is ironic that the little bird is afraid of flying," he rasped. She rolled her eyes. "I'm not afraid of flying," she scoffed. "It's only…the take-off I don't like." He smirked at her, knowing his grin must be hideous. She huffed and began taking off her coat, revealing a soft grey sweater flecked with embellishments and pulled over a white collared shirt. She folded the coat up and laid it on top of her bag, then turned to him. "Are we going to pick at each other the whole flight, or shall we enjoy each other's company?" she asked. Sandor snorted. "Don't bother with your pleasantries, girl. As if anyone could enjoy my company." He hadn't meant to sound so bitter, but it was true. Not even the Lannisters truly liked him. All they wanted was his skills for protecting and killing.
"I do," she said softly, shattering through his thoughts. "When you're not being such a stick in the mud." He stared at her, then threw back his head gave a barking laugh. "The bird's grown some claws, I see." The smile returned to her face, and she settled in her seat more comfortably, angling her body towards his. "So, what brings you so far North?" she asked. He shrugged. "Business for the Lannisters. Nothing more." At the mention of his bosses she suddenly seemed nervous. "Oh." She started twisting a section of hair around her finger as they started to lapse into silence again. "How's school?" he asked.
Her face perked up again, and she chatted about her various subjects and her teachers and her new friends in her sorority, with Sandor injecting a few questions here and there. It was the longest conversation they had ever had, and Sandor was surprised at how at easy it was to talk to her. She looked him in the face and smiled and laughed, as if she was speaking with some long-time friend. He had no idea what it was all about. Had a few months at college really changed her that much? She was still sweet and polite, but some of her shyness had worn off, and she acted genuinely interested in their conversation. And in him.
Eventually a flight attendant rolled up with a cart and asked if they wanted anything. Sandor asked for a beer and Sansa ordered a coke. When their drinks were served he ignored the plastic cup and tilted his head back to take a swig from the bottle. Sansa ignored the cup as well and gave a dainty sip from her soda can. He watched intently as she licked a drop from her bottom lip. "So…how are things in Kings Landing?" she asked, breaking him out of his trance. "Same as always," he shrugged. "But I'm sure Joffrey keeps you up to date on everything." That seemed to hit a mark, for Sansa frowned slightly and shifted in her seat. "Not really…he and I…we haven't talked much," she admitted. Yea, he's been too busy chasing tail, Sandor thought. He had not been blind to Joffrey's indifference to his now long-distance girlfriend, choosing instead to busy himself by hooking up with slutty, money-hungry girls draped in fake jewelry and too much lipstick. None of them held a candle to Sansa. Sandor wondered if she knew of her boyfriend's behavior.
"Really? Well, you both have been busy," Sandor commented casually, hoping to that she would divulge more information to him. Sansa nodded absently, tracing the tab on the can. "I guess." She opened her mouth like she was about to say something else, then shut it, casting him a worried and unsure glance. "What is it?" he asked. She bit her lip. "Look, you know I'm not going to say anything," he continued, placing his arm on the armrest and leaning towards her. "You know you can tell me." He hoped he was coming off as an available and open confidant, and not as a creeper. Like Littlefinger. Ugh.
Sansa relaxed a bit, and leaned forward as well. There was really no need to whisper, no one else on the plane knew who they were or what they were talking about, much less actually listening. But Sandor was not going to protest their closeness. She licked her lips nervously. "I…I think I'm going to break up with him," she confessed, and immediately tensed, waiting for his reaction. He blinked at her. "You think?" She faltered, then nodded. "Yes. I mean…" She took a deep breath. "I am. I am going to break up with him." The words were like music to his ears. He let his mouth twitch. "Well it took you long enough. I could have told you to. In fact, I think I did, once." He rubbed his jaw and eyed her.
She sighed. "You did. I just…I was afraid to, I guess. His temper…" she trailed off, but it was fine that her sentence was left unfinished. Sandor knew what she meant.