Sandor smirks crookedly. Peace and quiet. Two pretty and foreign terms in his vocabulary. If somebody had told him years ago, he'd be able to describe his life with those words now? He would have laughed and spat in their face while his gauntleted fists collided with their ugly visage.

He's known violence all his life. Still knows it. There's no point in denying that he's a bad man, through and through. His bloody past will always haunt him no matter where he goes. But with you alongside him, it's different. Slowly but steadily changing.

It feels too good to be true, almost. What he possesses can be taken away in a matter of seconds. A thing Sandor had done to other people and families all his life. His damned brother is also still out there, somewhere. He grits his teeth to the point of hurting. Damn these insecurities. Piss on them.

With a grunt, he slips into a simple, loose-fitting tunic and trousers. A feeling so much better than that crapload of heavy armor. Once your voice calls out to him from the room next door, he makes his way toward the kitchen. You must have woken up pretty early today, he realizes.

"Good morning, my little bird. Couldn't keep ya pretty little hide in the bed for any longer?" Sandor greets huskily, leaning against the doorway. He adds on teasingly, his smug grin returning, "Or was I too lenient on you last night?