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[kings_dog]

After having spent much of last night aiding the search for Jon Snow, Sandor had slept most of the morning and woken late, and spent what remained of it in a groggy funk. Living in a hut was still strange, and he found himself restless with the unfamiliarity after a short time. He decided to go to the Compound and search out breakfast; it was an

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[whats_insideyou]

With her son spending the day with the Strombecks, Sarah was free to have a bit of peace and quiet, to read and organize her photographs, to have a smoke -- thank God -- and sit in the kitchen with her coffee without having to spend every moment entertaining a toddler.

She had her own scars, deep and ugly and full of stories, so it wasn't the scars that caught her attention about him, but his rather substantial height. Still, she gave him no more than a passing glance and a muffled utterance that might have been a hello before she went about pouring her own cup of coffee.

No one had ever accused her of being friendly. Not in a very long time.

[kings_dog]

He grunted in response, almost grateful to find someone who wasn't the same dreadful sort of morning person that Bert had turned out to be. Not that Sandor didn't usually get up early, but he definitely wasn't ever cheerful about it. The woman went for the coffee just about the same time the kettle started shrieking, and Sandor turned to shut it off before getting a mug from the cabinet.

[whats_insideyou]

"Would you mind?" she asked in her low and heavily accented voice, pointing with one scarred hand toward the shelf of mugs that he could reach a lot better that the moment than she could. The look she gave him was knowing, somehow, one corner of her lips twitching almost imperceptible.

[kings_dog]

"Sure," Sandor said, a little surprised by both her accent and the sight of the scars on her hand. He brought down two mugs and passed her one. Their eyes briefly met and, seeing something like amusement there, he felt one side of his mouth pull up in a bit of a grin as he turned back toward the kettle. "Rough morning," he added over his shoulder, both a question and a statement.

[whats_insideyou]

"They are all rough," she said with a snort of something like laughter, pouring her coffee black and bringing it to her lips to blow away the steam.

Normally, there was just a little too much cheer around the place for her liking.

[kings_dog]

He made the same sort of sound back, shaking his head a little. "Touche." Her demeanor put him a little at ease and he thumbed over his shoulder at the food on the counter. "Breakfast too if you're hungry."

[whats_insideyou]

"Thank you," she murmured, something softening on her face, almost like a smile. Only for a moment, but it was there. Then, she did something unusual. She introduced herself, without prompt. Because she wanted to, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

"I'm Sarah," she said, eyes on a bowl of fruit salad she'd pulled closer to inspect.

[kings_dog]

The stiffness in her manner was hardly foreign to him; he'd spent the better part of a year here before relaxing enough to enjoy it, and it had only been Bert's arrival that really drew him out. He could appreciate feeling awkward, at least. "I'm Sandor," he replied, glancing back over his shoulder with a slight tilt to the unburnt side of his mouth.

[whats_insideyou]

"Well, now we have that out of the way," she muttered dryly, amusement tugging at the corners of her lips as she carried her coffee and an apple to the table, looking with vague interest at a stack of magazines someone before her had left behind.

[kings_dog]

He grinned, moving around in silence for a while, then dropped into one of the other chairs, glancing at the thin glossy books dubiously. He would never be someone who read for fun, and the purpose of such foolish reading material completely eluded him. As she spread out a few of them across the table, he caught sight of one that proclaimed it a Fall Fashion Extravaganza, and he couldn't help smirking a little into his coffee.