"Trust me. You are already better than the horrific man I was forced to marry. Don't worry about your ability to please me because the fact that you're thinking about it already makes you a better man."

Sansa slips her hands down to undo his trousers and they're different than anything she's ever seen. Buttons, she knows. This metal device, she doesn't, but it doesn't take her long to figure out if she eases it down, it parts the fabric. Far more convenient than laces, to be sure. Once it's undone, she tugs them away along with his underclothes and smiles at him.

"Stop worrying so much. And tell me your name?"