It’s always you. John Watson, you keep me right.
You’re gonna go far. And I’ll be right there next to you, telling dumb jokes and embarassing you. This shite with my Dad. I’ll sort it.
Swear I will.
"People love her. Every time we do interviews together, she hugs everyone in the room, and I shake hands, and I immediately look like this stiff, repressed Brit. So from now on, I feel like I should snog someone. But then she’d probably do that better than me, too."
Through the smoke another wedge of armored riders came, on barded horses. Floating above them were the largest banners yet, royal standards as big as sheets; a yellow one with long pointed tongues that showed a flaming heart, and another like a sheet of beaten gold, with a black stag prancing and rippling in the wind. Robert, Jon thought for one mad moment, remembering poor Owen, but when the trumpets blew again and the knights charged, the name they cried was “Stannis! Stannis! STANNIS!"
you finally believed in yourself, Green… Tinkerbell.
"I blew all my covers, I’ve got to figure out a new one."
"That might take a while."
"I’m counting on it."