#› thoros of myr ╱ & bronn ( thesellsword )

[starfrckled-a]

CONT // & @thesellsword  (  bronn  )

   IT’S UNCLEAR WHAT IS GOING TO PULL HIM TO HIS FEET, between the promise of food and Bronn speaking about having more to drink  (  they had plenty already, sure, but Thoros doesn’t find it in him to care  ).    « Give me a moment, will you? I don’t think my legs work yet. »   groan turns into a messy, hoarse laugh as he lets his head rest against the wall at his back  ——  impact a little harder than intended. If he keeps at it he doubts he will ever stop feeling hungover, though it’s better this way, better than having that god awful smell of burned flesh stuck to his nostrils, so it’s no surprise, really, when he ends up rising to his feet too fast and almost loses his balance, despite holding on to the other man’s hand. He has to grab onto his shoulder too, to keep from falling to the ground like the drunken fool he is.    « Y’ want me to try and make you a believer? »