(i’m so sorry. i forgot this was supposed to be 3 sentences and crack happened.)
The two men stared uneasily at each other over their tankards of ale at a rickety table in an inn on the Kingsroad. It was once a peaceful place, this inn, but now it buzzed with talk of war and lusty rumors of Lannister loot. Amidst the chaos, the men’s unending glances easily went unnoticed. But there they sat, their ale half-drunk. The shorter, more dishevelled of the two pushed aside a greasy plate of chicken bones. The other man, fair of face and peculiar of hair, took the last bite of a mealy apple and placed the core neatly besides him on the table in place of tossing it into the litter that collected underneath the tables.
The dishevelled man was the first to break the silence.
"I must say," he began, "and you best listen to me, for this is a grievance I’ve waited too terribly long to air. I have grown weary—weary I tell you—of having to spew such profanities. Such vicious, vile, foul words. Shit and fuck and bugger and arse and cunt—pah! They vex me so. They sear my tongue with their poisonous sting. And to have to say them in front of women and babes—” He took a large sip from his tankard. ”How I envy you and your polite ways and that damned smooth, mellifluous way you have of speaking. You haven’t the faintest idea what it is like to live the burdensome life I lead.”
His companion shook his hair—both the red side and the white side, as it were—off his face and looked the first man full in the eye. The languid air about him while he ate his apple was gone, replaced by a thin-lipped intensity.
“I think I’ve never heard such horseshit in my life. Or any of my other lives.” He shoved his tankard to the side and leaned in close. ”Have you any idea, Shitmouth? You talk of your burdens, oh…have you any idea of the burden of being A Man? A Man this. A Boy that. A King dies. A Lovely Girl—”
"A lovely girl?” Shitmouth spluttered. ”Have you—You told me I was your only, Jaqen. Your only! Wretched, perfidious—”
"I’m not done talking," the taller man known as Jaqen said, a dagger suddenly in his hand. Shitmouth’s eyes widened. "As I was saying, I’m tired of talking about A Man. It’s time to start talking about me. Me! Who even talks like that? I sound like a complete nutter.”
The men became enveloped in silence once more. Yet again, Shitmouth was the first to continue talking.
"Bugger this whole thing," he muttered. "I like the way you bloody speak, you stupid fuck."
"And a man is most enamored of these bold words," Jaqen replied with a smile.
The two men clinked their tankards together and drank.