Lia was never a night, though she served in the Court. She was a lady and a spy. Now she's just Lia. She's in her brother's clothes, though her hair is down, and she goes into the kitchen to find an apple or something like it.
To her eyes, Sandor presents a picture of pure torment, and she's compassionate enough to want to soothe it. She vaguely recalls that D'Eon may have met him--and it didn't go well--but she's not D'Eon, and it usually only takes a few moments for people to perceive the differences once she's started talking.
She finds her apple and steps closer, not wanting to startle. "Are you well?"
His hostility was almost searing, and she steps back, a little startled, though not really frightened. Lia can take care of herself. "I wanted to help," she says carefully.
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To her eyes, Sandor presents a picture of pure torment, and she's compassionate enough to want to soothe it. She vaguely recalls that D'Eon may have met him--and it didn't go well--but she's not D'Eon, and it usually only takes a few moments for people to perceive the differences once she's started talking.
She finds her apple and steps closer, not wanting to startle. "Are you well?"
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He met this one - or someone so close as to be...
Identical. Ah. At least he's met Jaime and Cersei.
"Fine," he says in that gravelly voice (lie). "What do you want?"
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