Frank talk does not offend me, Ser Donnel. When he bared her small breasts, she could not help herself. It is, my lady. The maester had told him the stories, and Old Nan had made them come alive.
His father had died several years before, so he was Lord Baelish now, yet still they called him Littlefinger. What if you'd only wounded him? What if you had made his hand jump, or hit Bran instead? For all you knew, the man might have been wearing a breastplate, all you could see was the back of his cloak. What were the Tully words again? Her throat was dry. This is no time for false modesty.
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