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Jaime's eyes widened and boggled at Brienne incredulously. “But they're Pre-Long Night Valyrian steal daggers, with genuine dragon bone! How can you not want to go splitsies?”
“I’d love to help,” Brienne said in a conciliatory manner, “but I want to keep all of my money in case I want to spend it on other things. You know, like rent and electricity and food,”
“But they are only four thousand gold dragon apiece, complete with the original leather scabbards,” Jaime persisted, “They are practically giving them away,”
“In exchange for two months worth of wages,” Brienne rolled her eyes, “I will pass, thank you. Besides, four thousand dragons is pocket money to you. Why do you need to split?”
“I'm trying to convince Father I can be more frugal,” Jaime admitted, “And he might consider spending four thousand dragons on a pair of dagger frivolous, when if I want someone stabbed we already have Gregor Clegane on the payroll,”
“Well isn't that like your father,” Brienne said sympathetically.
Jaime nodded gravely. “Function over flair,”
“Although I suppose function doesn't really come into it,” Brienne mused, “If they are only for ornamental purposes,”
“Well...” Jaime said sheepishly, “Technically they are not only for ornamental purposes,”
“Jaime,” Brienne said warningly.
“Well you've been complaining about that ginger bearded security guard for weeks now!” Jaime protested, “I would have thought you'd want me to do something about it,”
“Jaime, repeat after me. I. Will. Not. Stab. Tormund. Giantsbane,” Brienne said sternly.
“I will not stab Torment Giant-pain,” he repeated sulkily, “Though you don't mean to say that you actually like the man?”
“Of course not,” Brienne said in disgust.
“Good,” Jaime huffed, “Because from what I hear, he has neither flair nor function,”