(Untitled)

[scapepig]

After this there is a frightened, naked man sitting near the fire, looking around...

And occasionally snarling.

[ooc: Just a warning, if you try and touch him you will get bitten. This is one seriously not amused pig.]

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[sansa_stark]

Sansa was coming down to have breakfast.

She's not thinking about breakfast now as she gapes at the frightened, naked man.

[scapepig]

The man!pig scowls, and starts to crawl away behind a sofa.

[sansa_stark]

Sansa forces herself to look at the man's face and not other parts. Because good girls don't look at a man's other parts. Not that she was looking. Or if she was looking, she didn't mean to look. But she wasn't looking, so that's FINE! Ignore her red face!

"Excuse m-me, sir. Uhm, you're not s-s-supposed to--" She gives a little curtsy. Then she gestures vaguely around the bar. She's speaking coherently in her head.

[scapepig]

He turns around and growls.

"If you think, comrade, that just because I am stuck in this ridiculous shape that I am going to further humiliate myself by wearing those things, you are much mistaken."

[sansa_stark]

Sansa takes some hasty steps back at the growl.

"I'm sorry!" she squeaks. She begins to beat a retreat, only to pause after a few steps.

She slowly turns back to Snowball. There's something familiar, something-- But, no, she's never seen him (naked man) before, so what could it be? She tries to ignore the heat in her face as she thinks.

[scapepig]

"Go ahead comrade Sansa, have a good laugh at my pathetically sized apparatus." he says sulkily.

[sansa_stark]

"I'm-- I'm not laughing, I'm really not-- You know my name!" she realizes. She scans his face. Still no memory pops up. But she tries to think through it (keeping her eyes on his face).

"And you...call me...SNOWBALL! What in the-- what are you doing as a," naked, "human?"

She glances around the bar, worried that Tyrion might be here.

[scapepig]

"I'm crawling around humiliated because my trotters are the wrong shape and I don't know how to walk." he replies, taking the question entirely literally.

[sansa_stark]

Sansa gapes for a moment.

"St-stand up on your legs." She takes a few steps closer, to demonstrate walking, but it still too far away to touch him. Not that she would!

"You've, um, got feet now. So, I-I suppose just, um, ignore your arms. Oh! Wait! Use them to push you up onto your feet and-- and--" Sansa looks around again, looking for both dwarves and Security.

[scapepig]

He tries, and immediately falls over, with no concept of how to balance like that.

"Everything is the wrong shape." he complains. "I don't know how you humans manage at all."

[sansa_stark]

Sansa gives a little squeak of concern and walks toward him - only to halt a few feet away.

"Do you want some help?" Gods, if only there were a polite way to talk to him without looking at him.

"It's because we're...not...pigs," is what she manages in response to his complaint.

[scapepig]

"I want my body back."

[sansa_stark]

"I want it back, too!" This is said very fervently.

[scapepig]

"How do I find it again?"

[sansa_stark]

Sansa looks up at the ceiling as she thinks. "Find whoever made you like this," is her unsure suggestion.

[scapepig]

"Do you know of anything small and giggly?"