[ It's unfair. He knows it's unfair. He's not really thinking clearly, though, his brain muddled, like the sudden nice weather is making everything sluggish. He's usually so controlled, holding himself in such a good way, and yet now... he's ruining everything.
And for what? Because he thinks she deserves better than to devote herself to him? God, Baby. He notices the change in the name she uses, too, and winces, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes sockets.
Still, even though he knows he should apologize, all he does is plow right on. ]
All I'm asking for is for some air. I'm not saying I don't want to ever see you again, alright, you don't have to act like I'm breaking up with you. I just want us both to take some time for ourselves. Don't you want that? Are you fucking tired of me?
I actually am not tired of you. I am tired of being the brunt of a cross mood when I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong.
( Sansa gathers up her things and stands to leave. If he does not wish her to be there, she won’t be. )
I only wish that if I were such a demand upon your person that you’d simply have told me before getting angry with me solely because I wanted to spend my evening with you.
[ Baby runs a hand over his face, bewildered that she'd say that. Like she has nothing better to do than to hang out with him, every night, all the time. It barely computes to him, especially right now.
There's a part of him that is angry. That wants to push her away so that she can find something better than what he can offer. But she's so calm, collected, and it cuts through his anger, leaving him with barely more than naked exhaustion. ]
It's not - you're just - you don't get it. It's like you don't know how to selfish, and I don't know how to deal with all the attention. I'm not used to it, and it's making me feel like I'm... suffocating, sometimes.
[ His tone is not angry anymore, but he knows that his words are still harmful. He doesn't keep himself from saying them, though. ]
( What he says cuts deep like a knife and Sansa is more hurt by it than angered further. She nods once, in agreement, and her hands are clutching her sewing bag tightly so he can’t see them tremble. )
Very well. I won’t have you suffer under my attention any longer. I thought you enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours. I was mistaken. Forgive my misstep.
[ Her response makes his groan out loud, hands closing into fists as he presses them to his eyes again. He thought, maybe, she'd understand where he's coming from, or at least try.
But she doesn't, and she's upset. ]
You're putting words in my mouth, now. I never said I don't enjoy your company, okay? I just need some space, from time to time. That's all I'm saying, don't make it a bigger deal than it is!
[ He regrets the outburst as soon as it's out. She doesn't deserve this, and she's way too sensitive for him being such a dick. But it's too late. ]
( Sansa honestly doesn’t have a way to respond because she doesn’t know these rules or how to play this game. She had gotten very good at Joffrey’s games and at Ramsay’s but this is something else entirely. All she does know is to leave and so she does, leaving before she can display any weakness. )
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And for what? Because he thinks she deserves better than to devote herself to him? God, Baby. He notices the change in the name she uses, too, and winces, pushing the heels of his hands against his eyes sockets.
Still, even though he knows he should apologize, all he does is plow right on. ]
All I'm asking for is for some air. I'm not saying I don't want to ever see you again, alright, you don't have to act like I'm breaking up with you. I just want us both to take some time for ourselves. Don't you want that? Are you fucking tired of me?
[ He would be, if he was her. ]
no subject
I actually am not tired of you. I am tired of being the brunt of a cross mood when I don’t believe I’ve done anything wrong.
( Sansa gathers up her things and stands to leave. If he does not wish her to be there, she won’t be. )
I only wish that if I were such a demand upon your person that you’d simply have told me before getting angry with me solely because I wanted to spend my evening with you.
no subject
There's a part of him that is angry. That wants to push her away so that she can find something better than what he can offer. But she's so calm, collected, and it cuts through his anger, leaving him with barely more than naked exhaustion. ]
It's not - you're just - you don't get it. It's like you don't know how to selfish, and I don't know how to deal with all the attention. I'm not used to it, and it's making me feel like I'm... suffocating, sometimes.
[ His tone is not angry anymore, but he knows that his words are still harmful. He doesn't keep himself from saying them, though. ]
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( What he says cuts deep like a knife and Sansa is more hurt by it than angered further. She nods once, in agreement, and her hands are clutching her sewing bag tightly so he can’t see them tremble. )
Very well. I won’t have you suffer under my attention any longer. I thought you enjoyed my company as much as I enjoyed yours. I was mistaken. Forgive my misstep.
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But she doesn't, and she's upset. ]
You're putting words in my mouth, now. I never said I don't enjoy your company, okay? I just need some space, from time to time. That's all I'm saying, don't make it a bigger deal than it is!
[ He regrets the outburst as soon as it's out. She doesn't deserve this, and she's way too sensitive for him being such a dick. But it's too late. ]
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( Sansa honestly doesn’t have a way to respond because she doesn’t know these rules or how to play this game. She had gotten very good at Joffrey’s games and at Ramsay’s but this is something else entirely. All she does know is to leave and so she does, leaving before she can display any weakness. )