The morning sun peeking through the open doorway, along with the sounds of Sandor hobbling throughout the room wakes Viola from her rum induced slumber with a snort, causing her head ache and swell as she rolls herself onto her stomach and buries her face in the mattress, which smells of sweat and stale wine.

She is nearly back to sleep when an intense itch at the nape of her neck and back of her ears causes her to groan. To move her boneless limbs would mean accepting her fate of being awake, and she was not yet ready to admit defeat and face the hangover she would no doubt be feeling the moment her eyes opened for the day. Yet, the itch persists, making her spine tingle and her toes twitch. When she could stand it no more, she slams her hand on the back of her head and begins digging at the skin with her fingernails, causing her scalp to prickle and tingle at the assault she was currently taking out on it, but still, the itch continues, only growing with each scrape of her nails. She huffs in frustration and brings her other hand up to her scalp, cursing Payne for taking two of her fingers from her once more, as the three she has remaining on that hand are not nearly enough to combat what she was currently going through.

"Stop digging at it!" Sandor grumbles from somewhere near her, and forces her hands from her scalp. "Bloody bed is full of louse. Get up."

Viola grumbles and clutches the thin quilt covering the feather mattress below her in tight fists, and screams into the mattress. The sound only slightly muffled to protect her sensitive ears. Sandor grips her by the arm and drags her to the side of the bed before forcing her into a sitting position. She hasn't even opened her eyes yet but still the motion causes her head to spin and her spine to nearly collapse on itself, sending her hunching forward in defeat.

"I don't want to get up." Viola whines into her hands as she covers her face with them to shield her eyes from the light forcing its way into her closed lids.

"Aye, neither did I, but we have fucking louse. So get your arse up and get over here so I can get them off of you. Or, you can keep on digging at yourself until you bleed, but you won't be sharing a bedroll or a saddle with me until I kill the bloody bastards."

Slowly, Viola opens her eyes, blinking rapidly to acclimate her eyes to the bright light streaming in from the still opened door, and the candles now lit throughout the bed chamber. Sandor stands glaring down at her, his threadbare breeches pulled up his legs, but the tie in the front still undone and flapped open to reveal the thick, black pubic hair within. In one hand he has a fine toothed ivory comb and a small knife, in the other he had a decanter filled with amber liquid. He has brought a small washing tub, several buckets of steaming water, and a basin to the room, which sit before a blazing fire in the hearth. One hand flies to the back of her head and begins digging at it once more, only for Sandor to growl back at her, but she can't help it, the itching is far too intense. They had louse more than once on their journey, once so bad she could see them scurrying around on Arya's scalp as she rode in front of her on Stranger's back, but it had never itched this badly before.

"Get over here." Sandor commands, and without even thinking, Viola stands to her feet a bit too quickly and is forced to sit back down on the edge of the bed to keep from falling face first into the floor. "Come on. After we're through we'll get some food and rum into you and you'll be good as new."

"No rum." Viola heaves at the thought and tries once more to gather her footing, using her hand on the beds frame to steady herself as she slowly makes her way towards him.

"On you knees." Sandor gestures down at the wash tub at their feet, barely large enough to bath a babe in, and she obeys.

Without warning, Sandor shoves her head forward over the tub and pours the amber liquid from the decanter over her scalp, causing her to struggle as he keeps her neck pressed down with a strong hand on the crown of her head. Not only is the liquid freezing cold, but it burns her skin, her eyes, and her nose. She heaves into the bucket at the smell, praying to any Gods that will listen that she does not vomit up the rum and bread from the previous night into the tub that her head for currently forced in to.

She had always hated the pungent spell of apple cider vinegar, and now it was being forced over her head while her husband roughly scrubs at her scalp with the tips of his fingers to smother out the louse. After scrubbing her skin near raw, he picks up the ivory comb and begins pulling the nits from her scalp and dunking the comb down into the basin now on his lap to drown them in the water. The vinegar causes the louse to become angry, and she can feel them scurrying across her sensitive scalp, making her shoulders twitch at the sensation.

Once satisfied that he has them all, he slathers her head in a greasy, foul smelling ointment that he had hidden under the stool he sat upon, and releases her head, allowing her to finally sit up. The hangover was now completely forgotten as the grease from the ointment and the vinegar drip from her head and down her face and neck, soaking the tunic she still wore from the night before.

Sandor takes her by the hand and helps her to her feet, then kneels in the spot she had just stood from, placing his own head into the bucket. She takes her seat on his stool, and has a course of pleasure run through her when she pours the same vinegar over his head and hears him gasp and cough into the bucket. She knows that he is not the cause of their current infestation, but she needs someone to be angry at because of it.

After she combs the nits from his hair and slathers him in the foul smelling ointment, she allows him to stand and take his seat on the stool once more as she combs through his chest and back hair with the fine toothed comb, plucking out more than one stray louse as she passes the comb through his skin.

"It's as though I'm combing fleas off of a dog." She grumbles as she dunks the comb into the basin and shudders as three more louse float from the teeth of the comb.

Sandor says nothing, instead he flexes his bad leg out before him and sighs, his eyes twinging only slightly with pain as he does. When Viola places the comb on the edge of the bed and makes to turn away from him, he grips her by the wrist and pulls her in front of him, resting his chin on her stomach as his thumb draws circles against the skin on the inside of her wrist. He looks up at her with those sad grey eyes, the color of the sky just before it rains, and she smiles down at him, the frustration of being woken only to be thoroughly deloused suddenly forgotten.

"We have to fatten you up, little fox." He says quietly, wrapping his entire hand around her forearm for emphasis. "Too damn thin. How are you gonna give me sons when you're so frail?"

"I'm not frail." Viola counters as she pulls her fist through the sleeve of her tunic and uses the fabric to wipe a bit of vinegar from Sandor's forehead. "Besides, I'm not giving you any sons until we find ourselves a home."

"No, you're a mean little bitch. You are scrawny, though. I'll find us a home, I swear it."

"I know you will."

Viola smiles down at him, and bends at the waist and laces her fingers against the back of his neck to press her lips gently against his. Sandor wraps his arms around her middle, his chin still resting on her stomach, and deepens their kiss. Just as she opens her mouth to take his bottom lip between her teeth, a shadow in the doorway catches her attention. She had forgotten that the door was opened.

"Ugh!" A voice cries, and Viola whips her head around to find Tom leaning against the doorway, sniffing inside of the bedchamber. "Smells like pickled horse in here!"

"We've been loused." Viola offers, stepping away from Sandor and allowing him to heave himself from the stool to stand.

"Dog's given us fleas, now he gives us lice!"

"I did not give you fleas. It was that damn kitten you insisted on taking from the Isle."

"Kitten?" Viola asks, brow raised. "What kitten?"

"Shite for brains plucked a kitten from the Isle, swore he'd take care of it, and left it with the first whore who batted her eyes at him in the Saltpans. Gave us all fleas, though it could have been the whore that done it, and spent the next fortnight scratching and bitching."

"You done your fair share of bitching too, Hound." Tom chuckles, stepping in to the room and picking up the bottle of vinegar from the floor and the comb from the bed. "Besides, it was a sweet little thing."

"The whore or the kitten?" Viola asks with a smirk, causing Tom to double over with laughter.

"Ah. Both I'd say!" He barks with laughter and wipes his eye on the back of his hand. "Harwin says we're to leave after we all break our fast. So whatever you were about to do up here, I'd make it quick."

"Come." Sandor says as Tom leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him. "Wash that shite from your head so I don't have to smell it all the way to Winterfell."