Sandor had been sitting on Sansa's bed for Gods know how long. He was still covered in sweat, blood, and dirt from his fight, still filled with that burning, powerful hatred he felt deep within him whenever his sword passed through the flesh of another being. But now he was perceived as calm. And he was, in his own way.

How Sandor had come to be here, he didn't know. But all he could think about was how he had the feeling that Sansa would come up here. Sandor knew that his little bird could only take so much of Cersei. Or any Lannister, for that matter. The little bird couldn't stray long from her cage.

So he waited for her in the dark.

The distant screams of dying and fighting men were tuned out by now from him being used to it so quickly. But finally, he heard the distant, hurried steps of Sansa. He heard the desperation, the fear in them. He heard her open the door. He heard her come in. He watched her accidentally touch his blood-covered sword resting against the wall. And then he heard her take notice of him. When she spoke to him, he sat there, holding her doll in his bear-like hands, suddenly wishing for an escape from this damned place.

"The lady started to panic...I'm not here for long. I'll be going," he told her, his usual angry-filled, rough voice soft and distant now.

Yes, he would be leaving. He had gold in his pocket, a sword ready for battle, and a horse already in mind. This was no place for a hound. It never had been to begin with, just a stepping stone in his life had had to pass on to get to the next. And whatever that next stepping stone would be, Sandor honestly wouldn't know. He'd pass off with a new name, find a simple job somewhere far away from here...

Sandor got to feet. At first, slowly, for he had began feeling the dull ache within his bones from all the fighting he had done this evening. But he walked over her, shaking the feeling away as he pulled out his rag he kept with him, clean as often as he could, and wiped the blood she had missed off of her face. What use was it for her to ruin such a beautiful dress, which made the little bird appear all the more beautious?

"No, Little Bird. From Kings Landing. I'm leaving tonight while the battle still rages. They shan't miss me then," he explained to her, still in his calmed tone.

When he withdrew his rag, put it away, he stood there, looking down at the pail, sad, beautiful bird. He seemed to be the only person sane enough in this place to see past her iron shield. "I could take you with me," he suddenly offered, shocked at his own words.

He couldn't possibly...but...he knew well enough she didn't belong here -- she needed to be away from this place, needed to be reunited with her family, or at least safe. This place...wasn't at all safe for her. And he wanted to change that, he decided. "Far away. Away from your beloved king. Away from all this," he motioned to the space around them, "cage."

Sansa gasped at the soft material, and the large man standing before her. His hands were gentle, strange for a man of his size. Though, she already knew that, because he seemed to always be wiping the blood from her face. She watched him, her eyes meeting his and not shying away from his scars. The blood glistened off of them, but the gore didn't bother her - not on him.

Her eyes were soften by his kindness, but the steel was quick to return at his words. Ser Dontos... Dontos the fool... she though - he had promised to take her away too. But she knew Sandor, watched him fight... he could.

Far away... Home was far away. And as much as Sandor insisted that he was not a knight, he could be hers. If she dared believe him. It could all be come cruel jape. Joffery could have sent him, while he sits safe inside the castle walls. "My...my lord I couldn't possibly..." She began, her words unsure. But she could leave.... Right now. Leave Kings Landing, Cercie, Ser Mandan, Joffery... All behind.

She could let herself be whisked away, Rob would knight him if Sandor returned her to him... she just knew it. He could even be her own sworn shield if he wanted. It would be so romant- Sansa stopped herself, blushing at her wayward thoughts. "My lord." She started again, her voice sure this time. "I couldn't possibly stay locking in here another moment."

At first, Sandor was sure that she would use her steel heart to refuse to leave such a horrible place. If you keep thinking something good would come of your struggles, then you're a foolish little bird, he thought to himself. He stiffened at this. But what Sansa had said next left him surprised. Was his little bird finally putting her foot down? Finally accepting the help that Sandor saw that she oh-so desperately needed?

He tilted his head back a little, looking down at her over his nose at her as a response to her words. In a way, that was him showing that he was surprised with her. But then again, Sansa always surprised him.

"Pack only what you need, and do it quick, little bird," he murmured, looking around the room. "Gold, trinkets to sell, a cloak..." He turned around and sat back down on the side of her bed, letting out a great sigh from all of the stress that suddenly felt rushed upon him. In the eyes of Joffery, Sandor would be kidnapping Sansa and there would be so many guards and knights sent after them to be killed or worse, tortured.

Sandor knew that if they left now, hurried away until they couldn't possible ride any longer, that would put enough distance between them and the guards and knights.

"You're making a brave decision. I hope you know this," he said rather unfriendly. He never was one to point out someone's wise-made-choices, but for Sansa he'd do this. For her, at this moment, he would.

Sansa nodded, quickly rushing to her wardrobe. When she opened it, the fine silk southern dressed greeted her. With a sigh, she pushed aside her girlish dreams and found her dressed and smallclothes from Winterfell. They weren't as pretty, but they were made of cotton, and warm. She didn't want to waste time, so she folded them quick and stuffed them in her bag.

"My father once said the only time a person can be brave is when they're scared... I'm scared right now. Do you still think me brave?" She asked, her eyes meeting his for a moment, as she stepped around him to her vanity table. The contents of her jewelry box was quickly dumped into the bag, followed by her hairbrush. Her eyes drifted to Sandor, and she felt the need to explain herself. "It has a golden handle." Though - she wouldn't mind holding onto it until the rest of the jewels were sold.

To her bed now, she quickly stripped off the downy blanket, in favor of the wool one underneath it. Folding it up, that too was stuffed into her bag. It was full now, and Sansa put the strap over her shoulder - anything more and she wouldn't be able to lift it. She has been working mindlessly - but her mind was racing. Where would they go? How would they get there? They would come looking for them, and if they got caught Joffery would punish her again - perhaps even have her head. And Sandor. Now that she was done she looked at the large man. This would mean death for him as well.

"Thank you." She whispered. Walking over to the door and undoing the locks she had put in place earlier to lock out the world she was about to dive head first into.

"You are always brave," was his reply to her as he watched her move about her room frantically, eyeing what she had been packing. He trusted that she would be smart about what she'd pack, leaving him to get up.

He questioned her with his eyes as he eyed the hairbrush, then he slightly gave a nod at her explanation. Gold handled brush wouldn't be worth much, but he had an inkling she'd want to hold on to it just because. He watched her stuff the wool blanket into her bag.

He drew his sword as she undid the locks. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Wait just a moment," he murmured. He took her bag from her, throwing it onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. "If I'm unable to fight, you grab my sword and run for the stables, do you hear, little bird?"

He didn't wait for a response. He opened up the door and peered out into the empty hallway. He looked down at her. "Keep close behind." They had to move quickly, so he didn't hesitate to step out. He looked behind him to make sure Sansa was keeping close as he made his way down the hallway and to the stairs. He hurried down the stairs, two guards giving him questioning glares and running at him with their swords. Sansa wasn't to leave this place. All of King's Landing knew it.

Sandor heaved his sword at the left guard while dodging a hit from the right. He kicked the right down to stun him while he stabbed his sword through the left. He hurried over to the right and raised his sword, jamming it down into his stomach to leave them free to make a run for the door. He felt like a beast in Sansa's eyes, killing someone right before her. But she knew she was strong enough for that.

"Now comes the tricky part," he grumbled as he opened the entrance doors that led out into the courtyard. Just a few minute's walk and they'd be at the stables where they'd grab a horse and hurry off to the castle entrance, into the city, and into the rising sun.