"Wait, repeat that?" Brienne asked, looking up from her notepad. Sansa blinked at her.
"Repeat what?" she asked.
"You said that Joffrey’s uncle wouldn’t stop staring at you?"
"Why is that important?" Sansa asked blankly.
"I don’t know. You’re the one who brought it up," said Brienne. "You tell me."
Sansa grimaced, and looked down at her hands. ”It’s—I don’t know. It’s the dumbest thing. And it’s probably not true,” she said.
"What’s not true?" Brienne asked.
"Well…I don’t know. Joffrey’s always looked more like his uncle than his dad. But that’s…I don’t know. It’s stupid. Jon looks more like my dad than his. So that happens sometimes."
"I am sensing a but in there," Brienne prompted.
"Well…It’s more that…I don’t know. Joffrey’s blonde and has green eyes, and I am definitely not a biology person, but isn’t there something about dominant and recessive traits…and…Nevermind. It’s stupid. I’m stupid."
"You’re not stupid," said Brienne emphatically. Sansa still did that—still called herself stupid whenever she was backing away from her instinct. Brienne made a note of it on her pad.
"No, I’m not," Sansa said placatingly, "but I mean—come on. Joffrey’s not…he can’t be his uncle’s son. That’s ridiculous.”
"Well, it’s not if you think it might be the case," Brienne replied, and she wondered if it could possibly be true, that Joffrey was Jaime Lannister’s son.