Sandor: I thought you’d be going to Storm’s End next, with your Lord Smith.
Arya: He asked me to come with him, but I can’t. I’m not a Lady. And besides, no good ever came from Starks and Baratheons trying to marry, only war and death. Best avoid that.
Sandor: Oh is that what you’re trying to do? Avoid war and death? So you reject his proposal and run away to go kill people.
Arya: Shut up.
Sandor: I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much horseshit pour out the mouth of someone so small. Do you take that lad for a cunt like King Robert or King Joffery?!
Arya: That’s not what I said!
Sandor: Did you really go into battle with Lady Mormont and Brienne of fucking Tarth leading troops and Queen Daenerys on a goddamn fire breathing dragon only to look me in my fucking eyes and tell me you can’t be a Lady? Why? Because you wear pants and like fighting?
Arya: Fuck off, you don’t understand! You don’t understand anything!
Sandor: Oh, I understand, more than you do. More than anyone you know. There’s a hole in you, little Lady, and you can’t keep running away and filling it with death and hatred, and revenge. It’ll just get bigger, until there’s nothing left of you. Live your fucking life.