Her steps faltered. No, Sansa thought, she did not like him all that much. She rather dreaded his continued company and she knew she would have nightmares when she next tried to sleep. He was angry and he was stupid and she doubted he knew enough to protect her from anything. But he was all she had -- and for that, at least, she managed to show a modicum of gratitude.

"It's important they think I'm safe," she answered as diplomatically as she dared. "The more decent you sound, the safer I seem."

In the end, it underlined one remaining truth: she needed him, either way.