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Sansa gets angry, then. She often does, when control cannot be taken, when control is not offered. She is a player without any good card left, and she knows she is losing. She screams, what do you want from us? What do you want? You’re dead. You’re dead and you’re making a mess. Killing people. Do you even know you’re dead?
There is a silence, he thinks, but he is not sure, he is never sure, and then he hears the reply, clear as day:
I need to be more than that.
Life and death are one and the same, aren’t they?