#sance

Sandor snorts. "That's what I call all you highborn ladies."

A flurry of emotions goes across her face in seconds. Like clouds reflected across a pond's surface. Tiny expressions that Sandor's not sure that he's interpreting correctly. Relief. Annoyance. Disappointment. Jealousy.

He chuckles softly. "You're jealous," He says. "Jealous of a little girl."

The highborn lady won't meet his eyes.

"Look at you, jealous of a child," The Hound croons.

She cocks her head slightly. "Is she a little girl to you? The amount of men that I've seen lately, drooling over the tits that she's just grown."

He scoffs softly. "Do you think me such a foul beast as that? To go after a maid not even flowered?"

Alice watches him with those storm gray eyes. Quiet as cat's feet.

"I would kill any man that touches her." Sandor gently grips her chin in calloused fingers. "Look at the pretty raven, getting her feathers all ruffed up because of the direwolf." He tucks a strand of hair behind the young widow's ear.

"So you do not care for her?" The words are slow, measured.

He shakes his head. Honest as a dog, as always.

"I'm sorry," She murmurs. "I know that was irrational of me."

The Hound slides his hand along her jaw, so he's holding her cheek. Stroking the soft skin with a thumb. "You should spend less time with the court. You're starting to think the way that they do, little bird. Always expecting the worst of me." His tone is low and teasing.

Footsteps. Coming down the hall. Lady Alice hears them first. With her ears that haven't been slammed into walls by older brothers or fathers. Or struck by weapons in the practice yard or on the battlefield. She steps back so he's no longer touching her, and then further still. Until they're at an appropriate distance. The passing serving girl gives them a cursory glance, but no more.

As soon as the footsteps have died away, they're back together again. The Hound watching the funny little widow, who against all odds seems to care for him as more than a quick tumble...

He takes a step closer to her. "You should see how the other men around the keep look at you. Drooling over you like a piece of meat. Drives me half mad." He captures her chin again and forces her to look up. "You have nothing to fear from Sansa Stark, girl. You shouldn't worry about her or any other lady. They all have nothing on you. Nothing. You have beauty and brains both. And that's more than what can be said for most people." He presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "You know what I like, and she could never give it to me."

She looks up at him with a soft, adoring expression that makes his heart clench.

"No," Alice says slowly. "She wouldn't know how you like it soft one minute and then like I hate you the next."

He gives a grunt of agreement. "The girl is innocent and soft. All blushes and dreams of dashing princes," He says. "She can't give me what I need."

Alice smiles at him and goes up on tiptoe to kiss him. He obliges and bends for her. When he parts from her, he smirks wickedly at how happy she looks. 

"So when are you getting rid of Ser Henry?"

Her smile instantly dies.