[The noise on the porch has her panicked, grabbing the closest thing to her. Sansa isn't a fighter, she's no knight nor sellsword, but the fire poker at least makes her feel like she has a chance (though even she knows it is unlikely). Her words and her courtesy are her sword and armor. Vigilant, Sansa keeps the weapon close to her until the door is open.]
Mine? No. [It is the truth. The darkhaired girl eyes the woman carefully. She could easily overpower her if she wanted, sending her out to the cold and her death. It would be better to share the space, for the sole reason of her survival.]
You can stay if you like though. The fire is warm, and there is some stew left in the pot.
[It isn't much, and even Sansa knows it. She may not make it through the next day without scavenging, but then she may not make it through the night if this women chooses it.]
action
Mine? No. [It is the truth. The darkhaired girl eyes the woman carefully. She could easily overpower her if she wanted, sending her out to the cold and her death. It would be better to share the space, for the sole reason of her survival.]
You can stay if you like though. The fire is warm, and there is some stew left in the pot.
[It isn't much, and even Sansa knows it. She may not make it through the next day without scavenging, but then she may not make it through the night if this women chooses it.]