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Maybe she hates you less than she hates everyone else.
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I doubt it.
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Maybe she's jealous of you.
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Why would she be jealous?
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Sansa.
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I was wondering where our little dove had flown.
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You look pale, child.
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Is your red flower still blooming?
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Yes.
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Fitting, isn't it?
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The men will bleed out there and you will bleed in here.
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Pour Lady Sansa some wine.