Thoros: You still mad at us, boy?
Gendry: You sold me to a witch.
Thoros: A priestess. I'll admit, it is a subtle distinction.
Beric: We're fighting a great war. Wars cost money.
Gendry: I wanted to be one of you. I wanted to join the brotherhood, but you sold me off... like a slave. Do you know what she did to me? She strapped me down in the bed. She stripped me naked.
The Hound: Sounds alright so far.
Gendry: And put leeches on me.
The Hound: Was she naked, too?
Thoros: She needed your blood.
Gendry: Yes, thank you. I know that.
The Hound: Could have been worse.
Gendry: She wanted to kill me. They would have killed me if it wasn't for Davos.
The Hound: But they didn't, did they? So what are you whinging about?
Gendry: I'm not whinging.
The Hound: Your lips are moving and you're complaining about something. That's whinging. This one's been killed six times. You don't hear him whinging about it.
Tormund: You're the one they call the dog.
The Hound: Fuck off.
Tormund: They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or do you just hate wildlings.
The Hound: I don't give two shits about wildlings. It's gingers I hate.
Tormund: Gingers are beautiful. We are kissed by fire. Just like you.
The Hound: Don't point your fucking finger at me.
- Permalink: Don't point your fucking finger at me.
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