GRRM

Might I suggest you

His arm raised to stifle a sneeze as a sudden breeze stirred up the Westerosi dust around him, sending atoms of pollen and organic matter swirling through the air. He let out a slow breath, recalling his New Jersey home for what was likely the tenth time that day, as well as its MUCH LOWER pollen count. What he wouldn’t GIVE for an antihistamine...

George had been stuck there in the heart of King’s Landing for nearly a month now, and he’d spent each day plotting and scheming on how to SURVIVE there, considering the stark contrast to the world he’d once lived, with Starbucks on each corner and AIR CONDITIONING in every building. A commodity he wasn't sure he would ever learn how to live without, he thought unpleasantly, pursing his lips unhappily. The papers in his pocket felt heavy and important. He’d realized early on that he still had the power to control the world there, to an extent. What he’d written he had watched come to fruition, somehow, impossibly. Most of it, anyway. 

Yet, he still was no closer to a plan. He needed a place to start... some help, so to speak. 

A familiar figure passed by, and George realized with a start that he recognized her, though he’d never seen her but for the images he had created in his head when tying away on that old keyboard of his. He hurriedly straightened up and waved a large arm to get her attention.