SANSA
They were now in New York City, about to pull up at Jon's apartment any second and Sansa's heart was pounding so fiercely it caused her physical pain. She abruptly turned to Sandor when he stopped the truck in front of the building. "Come with me!" she begged. He started to protest and she grabbed his hand. "Please, Sandor! Please!"
She was trembling so severely that he took pity on her. "Fine," he rasped.
Sansa opened the passenger side door and jumped out. Her legs immediately gave way and she nearly collapsed to the ground, but grabbed the door handle in time. "I feel sick," she moaned.
"It's normal. Just don't vomit on the truck," Sandor ordered, appearing on her side of the truck, her luggage in his hand.
She glared at him before shutting her eyes for a few seconds, willing her queasy stomach to settle down. After sucking in a few deep breaths and drinking some of her bottled water, she felt a little better. "Okay, let's do this." Clutching Sandor's arm for moral support, Sansa headed towards the condo building that Jon lived in.
By the time they made it past the doorman, to the front desk attendant, Sansa's clutch on Sandor's arm had evolved into a death grip.
"I'm here to see Jon Snow." Her voice sounded unnatural and strained, causing the attendant to look at her strangely, before telling her to hold as he picked up the phone to ring Jon's apartment. She used the opportunity to gulp in air, trying to desperately fight the faintness that threatened to claim her.
The attendant at the desk returned his attention to her. "May I have your name?" he asked in a polite but detached manner.
"I'm — I'm his sister. My name is Sansa." Her voice had begun to tremble and Sandor awkwardly rubbed her shoulder with his free hand. "It's fine, little bird."
His rough, awkward voice soothed her and she took another deep breath.
The attendant paused as he stared at her, before speaking excitedly into the phone. "Go right up," he permitted a few seconds later, and supplied the apartment number.
Sansa's grip on Sandor's arm tightened as they headed towards the elevator. "If you squeeze my arm any tighter, I just might need to have it amputated." His voice was dry but Sansa barely seemed to register that he had spoken.
"I'm not going to intrude on your time with your brother. Once he opens the door, I'm leaving," Sandor informed her. But she was still too engulfed in her silent panic to reply.
After a dry heave scare on the elevator, Sansa stepped out on the fifteenth floor and made her way to the apartment door. "Little bird — " Sandor started, but the door flew open and they both froze, before Sansa's eyes widened in disbelief.