[ When the feed begins, only the side of a boy's face can be seen; blue eye wide but drowsy from lack of sleep, pale skin, and a peek of a mess of auburn hair. He looks young, but weathered. His attention isn't on the camera, though, and when he speaks, it's to address someone else entirely. ]
That isn't yours. [ The camera jostles as he reaches
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[A beat.]
Oye, oye, are you a-- d'ya know a girl named Sansa?
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[ The last question earns him a wary look. ]
... How is it you know my sister?
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