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    Summary

    “Your… preferences are quite peculiar, aren’t they.” It’s not a question.

     

     

    “There are no men like me, aren’t they.” For a moment he thinks he shouldn’t have said it. But then there’s a split moment when they just stare at each other and then two things happen.

     

    First, one of Brienne’s hands moves from his hip, and the absence of the slight pain he had been feeling feels somehow very, very sharp. Second, her lips curl up in a small, fond smile that shows a hint of crooked teeth, her eyes staring straight into his.

     

    Well, you’re impossible. But - as it does seem that I spent my life doing impossible things, I should hope I can manage this as well.”

    Or: where Jaime has preferences that he can't quite manage to discuss clearly with Brienne and it's his luck that she can figure him out anyway.

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