She was safe, she was warm, and the whole situation was very much like being asleep. And then with an abrupt pop!, Arya Stark was salty and buttery and very much wide awake
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"Hey, you," said Pullo, happily recognizing Wishbone from his own Sorting. "The smart dog! How've you been, pup?"
Arya shied back, mostly out of concern for the dog since she was holding a sword, after all. "You're talking," she said, not sure whether to be confused or not. She seemed to remember that talking animals wasn't as unusual here as they would be anywhere else.
Oh, hey! I haven't seen you in a while. Following his nose, he stopped right near Arya's hand. Oh, you're covered in butter! Can I lick some off, please please please?
"I've been out," Pullo said, shouldering his bag again. "I needed to stretch my legs, see the world. Have you ever heard of a place called 'Las Vegas'?"
Still sitting on the floor, Arya shook her head. "I'd rather you didn't," she said stiffly. It was one thing for a dumb animal to lick food off your arm, and it was another for one that talked to offer to do the same. It was wrong, somehow. "Who are you?"
"And you've heard it exactly right." Pullo grinned down at Wishbone. "Gambling, women, and all the wine I could drink. Ah, what a place." He looked faraway for a moment, but shook himself back to the here and now. "But it's good to be back, strange a place as this is."
Arya kept a wary eye on the talking dog. "Well, you can't have it from me. Can't you get any from the house elves? It's got to be better than licking it off people."
Pullo opened his mouth to speak, regarded the girl and how very young she looked, and closed it.
It's not as fun, though. And it helps you get a little bit clean. But mostly the fun. And I like answering people's questions when I do it, cause most everyone doesn't remember this place.
"I don't like being touched, and I don't mind being dirty," she said, hoping that the dog would drop it. "And I remember this place just fine." The defiant display faltered only a little as she added, "Mostly."
She grunted and continued to clean Needle with Pullo's shirt. It only helped a little, but it was better than allowing the steel to be fouled with butter. "Are you a warg?" she asked the talking dog, not taking her eye off of what she was doing. A slip in attention could mean missing fingers, if she wasn't careful. Needle was very sharp.
Arya had never heard a dog laugh before. Her posture was still stiff and guarded, but it loosened slightly at the sound. "You know, a beastling? Someone who goes into animals. Old Nan used to tell us--used to tell me stories." Thinking of her family, her brothers and even her sister, was still painful. Not as much as it could have been, somehow.
"Oh." She held up Needle to the light, squinting at it critically. The grip was still greasy, and the blade needed more than just a simple wiping, but the worst of it was off. She nodded to herself and reached out with one leg to kick at Pullo.
He looked down at her. "What?"
"Thank you," she said, holding his buttery shirt up at him.
He looked down, thought it over, and looked at Wishbone. "Hey, pup, you want a buttery shirt?"
That's harder to clean than human skin. But okay! Butter was still butter, after all. And hey, maybe Wishbone would get it on himself, and THAT'S easier to clean.
Then again, he might be camping.
Seeing two people in the room, he began sniffing to see which one was all butterfied.
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Arya shied back, mostly out of concern for the dog since she was holding a sword, after all. "You're talking," she said, not sure whether to be confused or not. She seemed to remember that talking animals wasn't as unusual here as they would be anywhere else.
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Still sitting on the floor, Arya shook her head. "I'd rather you didn't," she said stiffly. It was one thing for a dumb animal to lick food off your arm, and it was another for one that talked to offer to do the same. It was wrong, somehow. "Who are you?"
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Arya kept a wary eye on the talking dog. "Well, you can't have it from me. Can't you get any from the house elves? It's got to be better than licking it off people."
Pullo opened his mouth to speak, regarded the girl and how very young she looked, and closed it.
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He looked down at her. "What?"
"Thank you," she said, holding his buttery shirt up at him.
He looked down, thought it over, and looked at Wishbone. "Hey, pup, you want a buttery shirt?"
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