[ Sansa makes a face at her uncle from the opposite side of the kitchen table, over the top of her magazine. Bran is in the other room, playing a video game, which means the both of them have to behave. Still, her long leg extends underneath the table, the arch of her barefoot curled over the top of one of Uncle Petyr's shoes, tapping to an absent rhythm. ]
no subject
What're you even talking about?