Trisha was at the hotel bar with Kevin by her side, he was rubbing her back comfortingly while she sipped on her sprite.
"You should rest after this, Trisha. You need it," Kevin told her and she released out a shaky sigh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I just...I'm just processing a few things right now."
She'd seen a helpless drunk being pummeled by a man she had tried to become close with and it racked her soul. It was so violent and the scene alone almost made bile rise in her throat. Surely seeing something like that on TV would be easy to overcome, but seeing something like that in real life was really hard, it was, and every time she closed her eyes, that was all she could see.
What happened to that man totally surpassed what happened to her, and it was beyond what he deserved.
Just then, the doors to the hotel opened and she realized that a lot of the staff were coming back from the Golden Trident pub. They were in their respective groups, having animated conversations with each other.
Trisha just knew they were talking about that messy one-sided brawl that had occurred earlier.
The young girl didn't have a sight on Rory, Richard, or Sandor and she was curious as to where they were and what they were doing.
"You better be glad he's not dead you dumb fucker," Rory spat at Sandor who was still writhing with adrenaline. "He should be. I was just going easy on him."
Rory grabbed him by the lapels on his jacket and pushed him up against a large oak tree, roughing him up, "Why? Because he slapped a girl's arse? When something like that happens here, you give em' one punch and you throw 'em out the bloody door, you don't fucking kill them," he growled.
Sandor was huffing through his nose. It was unlike him to care about the wellbeings of others, let alone someone he barely knows in a world he knows even less about. So why did he do that? If something like that would've happened in Westeros, he wouldn't bat an eye, let alone charge at them and grab them by the scruff like a dog.
He only looked away from Rory, instead opting to turn his attention to the sidewalk. Rory let him go and patted the jacket down to smooth it over.
"I think we ought to talk to the crew and see what they think we should do, I don't even know what we're supposed to tell the police," Richard said aloud. While Rory lead the way, Richard walked beside Sandor and said to him, "I know how tough you are, or at least act like you are but you aren't invincible here. There will be some serious repercussions after what happened. Plus, you have to think about me, too. Every silly little fucking thing you do comes back to me because, in case you don't remember, you're not supposed to fucking exist!"
"Fuck off," Sandor grunted in response.
As they came to the hotel, Sandor thought to make a beeline for the bar but when he passed the entrance, he saw Trisha leaning on Kevin in the elevator. She looked up and made eye contact with him before the doors closed and Sandor felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight.
Rory sighed and pulled him to the closed elevator doors and pressed the button. "No more drinking tonight," he said briefly. Sandor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.
The doors opened and Sandor was glad to find that it was empty.
While walking down the corridor to his room with Rory by his side, he heard laughter. It was unmistakably hers, but it was in chorus with a much deeper tone. Kevin. Sandor inwardly growled at the thought of what was going on behind that door across from his. He was annoyed that he was annoyed by it.
Rory walked to the armchair in the corner of his room and took it upon himself to relax from the long trek to the hotel. "I'll bring you some more clothes in the morning but that's about it. I'll take you to the shops so you can have your own clothes."
Sandor only nodded in response, kicking off his boots next to his bed and taking his own seat.
"I noticed that you still have the lights on," Rory said to him.
The scarred man raised an eyebrow as if to say, "so what?"
Rory sighed, "You can turn them off by flipping this switch," he said, walking to the light switch next to the doorway and flipping it up. The lights died out and the room was bathed black. Rory flipped the switch back on and the room was lit again.
"I'll see you in the morning," Rory said to him one last time before closing the door. Sandor got up from his seat and made his way to the bathroom, the light still on from the past few days.
Sandor twisted the knob on the tap and let the water wash the blood from his hands, he gently rubbed around the openings in his skin. The sight of his own hands let the ringing of Trisha's protests invade his mind.
"I said stop it!"
He'd gone all his life pillaging and brutally killing people, innocent or otherwise, and never did their beggings stir him. He did what he did to please his superiors and himself. He refused to give into to the pleas of those he was inflicting pain upon. He never stopped.
So why did he listen?
Why did he listen to her pleas, why did he stop?
This world was changing something in him and he didn't like it.
Sandor looked into the mirror above the sink and saw a reflection of himself. His hair looked softer from the conditioners, his skin was free of filth from the soaps and he generally looked healthier. The one thing he hated seeing in that mirror was his face. The melted, scarred skin, the permanent remainder of his own blood's betrayal.
A sudden urge coursed through him and next thing he knew, his arm was raised, his fist was clenched and it was soon meeting the mirror at a violent speed. The clash of glass reverberated the walls, the shards bouncing into the sink, breaking the skin of his hand even further.
Stupid fucking mirror, he thought to himself with a piteous groan.
"Now look at this one," Kevin said to Trisha with a wide grin, his thumb moving to swipe on the screen revealing another funny video.
"Oh my god, ew!" she exclaimed, laughing at the ridiculous content he was showing to her. Once she collected herself, she sighed and swung her arm around his neck. "Thanks for this, I really needed it," she told him and he only shrugged.
"It's fine, really," he assured her. "Ah, man I've got to go. It's getting pretty late," he said, looking at the time on his phone.
Trisha pouted, "Yeah, you're right. But I'll definitely catch you in the morning for breakfast, okay?" she asked him and he nodded, smiling at the prospect of what tomorrow had to bring.
They got out of the bed and she opened the door for him, hugging him one last time. Suddenly, a loud crash was heard and she recognized that it was coming from Sandor's room. Kevin jumped, startled from the thunderous clash of what sounded like glass breaking.
"What was that?" she asked Kevin and he just shook his head.
He grumbled and said, "Just ignore it. The guy really needs to cool off. We'll just see how he is in the morning," he said to her and she agreed with him. Trisha bid him a final farewell and closed the door.
Hopping on her bed, she couldn't help but feel curious... Distressed in the very least, thinking about what Sandor could be doing at that moment. What was he thinking? How was he feeling? She felt guilty even trying to consider his feelings at that moment because should he even really be considered? Was he worth the consideration after what he did?
A guy like that surely has some remorse for the things he does, despite how normalized it all may be from the constant exposure to it all. Was he remorseful from what he did to that man? She had to find out, or at least make sure that he was. Just because he came from a violent world doesn't mean he can't try and adapt to this new, less violent world he's come from.
She waited just long enough to make sure that Kevin was out of the hallway and she stepped out of her room, knocking on Sandor's door.
"Fuck off," Sandor grumbled at the knock on the door, washing his hands in the glass filled sink then grabbing a soft hand towel to dry off his hands. The knocking on the door was gentle but persistent. With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he opened the door and found Trisha standing in front of him, her hands wringing by her front nervously.
"I was just-"
"I punched the mirror."
"Wait, you what? Why?" Trisha's brows furrowed in confusion, pushing past him and walking to his bathroom. "So that's what that noise was," she murmured, peering around the bathroom to see the extent of his damages. "Why did you do that?" she asked him, turning to him and looking at him with a hesitant look.
Sandor's eyes fell to the floor, unsure of what to say. Your panicked voice sent my fist flying into the mirror? I'm mad at myself for making you upset? I'm mad at myself for being an ugly fucking dog? "I saw a rat."
Trisha raised her brows in suspicion, "Where is it now?" she asked him, leaning her weight onto one leg and crossing her arms over her chest with an expectant expression. "It's dead. You can go back to your room now, woman," he grunted, waving her away towards the door.
"Why are you lying to me, huh? You must've had a reason other than seeing an obviously fake rat," she scoffed.
Sandor clenched his jaw and stomped his foot on the ground, "Give it up, will ya?"
"Why'd you punch the mirror," she persisted with a determined look in her eye.
"Yer doing my fucking head in and I want to sleep," he snarled at her, returning her determined look.
"Oh! I'm doing your head in? Do you need to be reminded of what you did earlier? You almost killed someone! Do you know how terrifying that was to see? Do you know how awful it was to see how bloody and horrid his face was after you beat him? Sure, I was shaken after what he did to me and he deserved punishment but not that... Not that," she exhaled shakily, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent her cries from escaping. Tears slowly filled her eyes as the memories of what occurred tonight covered the back of her eyelids, cursing her vision every time she blinked. She gulped down her whines and stepped to him, poking his chest with her index finger in anger.
"I don't even know why I keep bothering. I don't. I keep coming back in here and sure, things will be fine for a minute but the rest of the time I spend with you is horrible. I hate that you can't even try to pretend to be like a civilized person! All you can say is shit and fuck and cunt, that's literally your entire vocabulary. I hate it!" she ranted, continuing to jab her finger into his chest.
He couldn't find the energy to confess to her so he just let her take her anger out on him, standing there all unmoving and motionless.
"Fuck you, Sandor," she scoffed, turning on her heel to leave his room.
Instinctually, he reached out to her and he grabbed her by the wrist. "Let go of me," she told him, trying to tug her arm away. His grip only tightened which alarmed her. "Trisha, please–"
"You're hurting me!" she cried out and he immediately let her go. He looked at her with concern, watching as she pulled her arm to her chest, grasping at her sore wrist.
She turned quickly and bolted for the door. He stepped in front of her and placed his hand on the door, "Wait!"
"Let me go, Sandor–"
"Just fucking wait, woman!" he yelled at her, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. "Fuck..." he mumbled, looking at her frightened face, a single tear strolling down her cheek. He raised his hand and she flinched, blinking quickly. He felt a pang in his chest at her earnest reaction, though he continued to wipe the tear away from her cheek. "I'm sorry, okay?" he told her honestly.
"I'm not the one you should be sorry to," she told him quietly.
"I'm saying it to the only fucking person that matters right now," he replied, looking down at his feet, trying to find the words to say to her without ruining the moment.
He sighed quietly, "I didn't mean to... I just got mad. I think that's pretty fucking obvious, but it's the truth. You know I'm not used to this world, I would've killed that fucker if you hadn't... Stepped in. I will try... harder, in the future."
She looked up at him with an unreadable expression, the only sound filling the room being their synced breathing. He would try harder? She'd cut him some slack since it was only his second day being here but she was still incredibly shaken and disappointed because of what he did. Did he expect her to thank him for nearly killing that guy? She would've been thankful had he just thrown the guy out but he'd taken it to the extremes which was very overwhelming not just for her, she's sure, but for everyone that had to witness it all.
Deep down, she knew that apology was very hard for him to let out. She understood just how stubborn and hardheaded he was, so apologizing like that must've been very huge for him. Not that he deserved points for it, it was a pretty shit apology by median standards.
Looking to her feet, she swallowed and let out a shaky sigh. "Just... clean up the glass," she told him quietly, ducking under his arm and opening the door, leaving him in his room, kicking himself internally for being such a hotheaded fucking idiot that just can't find the right words.
Shutting her door behind her, Trisha flopped down onto her bed and silently cried into her pillow. She'd just embarrassed herself in there. She should've just listened to Kevin and stayed in her room but she just couldn't help herself. She was impulsive and caring by nature, mix that with a fictional character come to life and you have a huge fucking mess that is too tiring to deal with.
"Come for me," his voice called out to her in a blur.
"Sandor," she moaned, twisting her body to feel closer to his larger one, her small hands roaming his chest.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Trisha woke up in her clothes from the previous night, sticky with sweat as a result of the good... bad dream.
"Fucking hells," Sandor grumbled to himself, flipping the covers off to cool himself off.
"What was that dream?" they both asked themselves with an internal groan.