Jaime doesn't know how to flirt with women, let alone men. His method of expressing his attraction to Brienne of Tarth is to call her wench and hurl insults at her to provoke her into bantering with him, which seems ill-advised while sitting aside a beast he's chained to and does not obey his commands. Why he even wants to is beyond him, and he feels half overcome with a stroke of madness he wants to blame solely on the dragon or how high in the clouds they are for the desire daring to strike him.
And yet it's there, demanding he do or say something, ruing his lack of a proper adolescence and the claustrophobic rehearsed theatrics of court life he bore witness to for giving him absolutely nothing to go off of.
He ought to ignore it, push it aside, vanish into himself as he's been known to do— But this situation isn't a negative or traumatizing one, nor is it even a truly unwanted one, much to his own horror. It's just... immensely unexpected and potentially dangerous and he always was the stupidest Lannister.
"Present and accounted for," he answers in his so-so High Valyrian, thick with his brisk Westerlander accent. Jaime dares to look back over his shoulder at the prince. "In mind and body."
no subject
And yet it's there, demanding he do or say something, ruing his lack of a proper adolescence and the claustrophobic rehearsed theatrics of court life he bore witness to for giving him absolutely nothing to go off of.
He ought to ignore it, push it aside, vanish into himself as he's been known to do— But this situation isn't a negative or traumatizing one, nor is it even a truly unwanted one, much to his own horror. It's just... immensely unexpected and potentially dangerous and he always was the stupidest Lannister.
"Present and accounted for," he answers in his so-so High Valyrian, thick with his brisk Westerlander accent. Jaime dares to look back over his shoulder at the prince. "In mind and body."