he’s on another assignment entirely·–·mainly,·shut the hell up, sit the fuck down, and let that arm heal,·according to his boss. M’s practically·banned·him from re-entering the country until he’s been away at least a·MONTH,·and a fortnight in & bond’s already·restless.·never a good sign. but he’s hacked into the hotel’s system (wasn’t·too·difficult, considering he’s a·LOYAL PATRON·here & they’ve learned to accept his eccentric nature) and to his surprise, a·miss SANSA STARK·checked in two days ago, into a room three floors above his own.·
“ time to greet the neighbors, ”·he murmurs to himself, snapping shut the laptop with a faint grin. & with a sort of·awkward grace,·one arm in a sling, he dresses himself (casual, no need for his usual suit & tie) before exiting the room (double-checking that it’s·locked,·as he slips the key into the pocket of his trousers.)·
it’s a short walk to the lift, which takes him down to the·kitchens;·a few words with the·head chef·& he strolls out with a·gin & tonic·in one hand and a large cup of·sherbet ice-cream·in the other. then it’s up to her floor, her room number memorized & shortly before him.·
the agent knocks thrice upon the painted door, stepping back in clear view of the hole through which he reckons she’ll check prior to answering. carefully, he sips his drink, and waits.·“ room service, ”·he deadpans,·not·without a cheeky grin. three doors down the corridor, another patron exits, and bond turns to spare the departing figure a measuring glance. he’s not sure·why·she’s here, but with her status (personal & otherwise) he hopes she’s well-protected.·
It was simple, really, traveling under her name — Joff caused too much trouble, hotels mysteriously booked and family friends conveniently absent whenever one sought their hospitality. Once at the front desk, however, it stood all but impossible to refuse a booking; bravery died quickly when bereft of a phone’s comforting buffer. At best he managed a day, possibly two, before fleeing their accommodations, the lists of sites and shops bestowed ·by Mrs. Baratheon, to seek out instead those entertainments more suited to his disposition.·
Sansa entertained herself with television, a hot cup of tea enjoyed from balcony’s shelter. She might have ventured out, were it not for the blue-grey clouds hanging ominously over the streets. Such abandonment had long since lost its shock. Indeed, the girl quite enjoyed her solitude, a rare respite from watchful eyes, whispers unheard but not unnoticed, surveillance carried out in anticipation of one misstep.
Knuckles rapping against wood startled her, the girl expecting no guests or callers during such a lonesome sojourn. Though she knew it would cast a shadow — hardly covert — Sansa peered through her peephole to find a rather unexpected visitor.·“For me?” Sansa beamed, pointedly sweeping away both gin and sherbet.·“Why, Mr. Bond, you shouldn’t have.” Stepping aside, she allowed him entry; as the door latched, one hand extended with the sweating glass, beverage unsampled.·
“Nothing’s the matter is it?” Though she knew little and less of the man’s actual duties, trouble invariably seemed to follow, were his sketchy anecdotes any indication.·“And you’ve hurt your arm! Dear lord, I do hope you’re not expected to do anything in such a state.”
❝ kicks in the door because the hotel lobby has ice cream.
Startlement vanished as soon as the girl realized just who had burst into the room, oh-so-tastefully outfitted in shades of beige and cream. It took a few moments longer to disentangle his words, however, jumbled as they were with gesticulations and rasping breaths. Rather than leap up with glee or clap her hands in a childish display of delight, Sansa crossed her arms, staring down her nose with mock disappointment.
” —— So. You mean to tell me you hurried all the way up here to tell me about this ice cream — which may or may not be lemon flavored — but somehow failed to bring a scoop with you?” Sansa neglected to mention the splintered door clinging to its frame: that would have been rude.
The girl’s cheeks still maintained a faintly skeletal look, hollow, one of the few remnants which evinced recent struggles with the flu. A coat hid what tremors lingered and a scarf imparted cheerful coziness to an otherwise dour portrait. She smiled. In truth it looked more like a grimace, but Sansa was ill-inclined to let any opportunity pass by her unseized.
"Whyever do you ask that, Mr. Bond? Accusing me of lookig sickly? Or do you simply wish to offer up some soup?“ Sansa would prefer lemon sherbet.
wolfless. Undoubtedly Cersei Lannister. Sansa distrusts any lion, of course, but her two greatest antagonists whilst in King’s Landing were Joffrey and his mother. Even many leagues away in the Vale, with a more-than-serviceable disguise, she fears that the queen will find her and make her answer for a crime she was tricked into helping commit. But someone I rarely see mentioned, who was no less frightening, is Sandor Clegane. Once away from the city, Sansa dons some heavily tinted rose-colored glasses regarding their interactions; while the Hound admittedly was one of the least awful in the Kingsguard (a dubious honor), and also earned some sympathy thanks to his unpleasant childhood, one cannot ignore that every meeting with him left Sansa terrified. And I think that, in spite of her romanticization, she would still feel scared should they encounter one another again.
wolfless. I would say it’s a combination of a re-discovered love of writing and the friendships I’ve made whilst doing so on Tumblr. Portraying Sansa brings me a lot of joy, plus I think that I do a good job, but it’s getting to share my developing skills with others who harbor the same passions and strive to make the same improvements that has introduced me to a community of writers that I would be loath to walk away from!
Bond finds his holster empty. Personal protection is not a game in 007’s world — there’s a significant difference between planning to go unarmed, and being robbed of his weapons.
Still —— perhaps she didn’t mean anything by it. Curiosity is often irresistible; he surrenders to such whims even now, decades older than the young woman standing before him. Bond inhales deeply, quietly, to collect himself: Had she been someone of less importance, he wouldn’t have bothered — they would’ve had a row in the middle of the hotel lobby, other patrons be damned. But the stars are in Sansa’s favor today, and such a scene will be actively avoided.
”Sansa,“ he begins, casting his gaze around the lobby; a typical precaution. ”I seem to have misplaced my Walther —— you haven’t seen it, have you?“ He’s giving her a chance to redeem herself, before things get…complicated.
It began simply to find out if she could. Sansa had shot a rifle once, at her father’s behest, disliking the smell and the sound and how her arms ached from holding the barrel steady. Smaller though it was, a sidearm held no more interest than hunter’s weapon, a tempting personal dare meant as proof of her own covert abilities before replacing the pilfered Walther. Whatever hopes the girl held of grudging respect or astonishment, however, withed on their vine at seeing Bond’s expression of immeasurable patience.
——————— Oops.
“Yes, Mister Bond?” She had always found it rather silly, using his given name like that. An observation kept to herself then, fingers curling tighter around the clutch hiding stolen trinket. Practiced in casual lies, Sansa still struggled to keep a look of mischievous guilt from twisting across her face. Damn. He knew. “Oh! Well, um….that would depend on when you lost it, I suppose. I try not to bother with your luggage; so many things that can go bang and all that…”
wolfless. Aw Cas, thank you so much!! The plan is to do something much, much larger for the next one, but I can never resist the chance to make something for my lovely followers!
❝ bond gaining sansa's trust before FINDING OUT HE'S A SPY
wolfless. Oh you mean let’s give Sansa a powerful, suave, oddly endearing protector otherwise lacking in her life, only to reveal that he LIES and KILLS for a living? Yes, that sounds like the happiest of fluff, the warmest of fuzzies, and I demand such an emotionally manipulative plot immediately.
☆ - How did you go about getting a grip on your muse’s character?
wolfless. Having made this blog mid-way through watching Season 2 of Game of Thrones for the first time, my first order of business was getting all five of the novels and reading through them, Sansa’s chapters most of all (as well as finishing the show). Since she receives both a moderate amount of screen-time and several chapters through each of the first four novels, that provides ample material before one even delves into the other POVs where she makes an appearance. Beyond that, I trust my instincts and do my best to re-read her POV chapters on a regular basis. There are days I generally don’t feel like writing, but I’m lucky to have never struggled in getting Sansa to flow when I have the time and energy to write her!
❝ totally anon of course: you're a fantastic sansa, even though i haven't read all the books and i'm still making my way through the last season, i know people who know you and word on the grape vine is that you're incredible so put that in your stolen hotel ice cream and eat it. ♥
;; Are you stalking me, Bond? Talking to my known associates? Tapping into gossip sources? That’s awesome that you’re finishing up the show and working on the books, though! You’ve actually inspired me to order a handful of Fleming’s original novels, as I’ve kept threatening to do, because it’s nothing short of awe-inspiring how you combine, accommodate, and organize all of his different canons into one cohesive portrayal. Plus you’re oodles of fun to write with, so yes, stick around long, long time.
anonymously tell me what you think of my character portrayal.
can you imagine how difficult maintaining a relationship would be with my work schedule? not to mention, not everyone’s fine and dandy with me keeping my beretta .25 under my pillow. and i’m grouchy because i’ve got to deal with jumped up little shits like yourself.
do those excuses fly just as well at your place of work? a girl needs her own pillow anyway, so that’s no problem. and need i remind you that this is your fault to begin with? if you hadn’t grubbed about for affection so publicly, i assure you i wouldn’t have bothered.
should an exclusive partner go inactive for 1+ month, then i will become tentatively open to interactions with duplicates. when/if they return then exclusivity may resume.
