Usually growling at people was enough to send them scuttling off and leaving him alone but it seemed the woman was content to stay right where she was so she could glare at him instead. There was something in her that he almost recognized from the time he met Brienne of Tarth.

"I don't dance." He told her, his voice still a growl though not quite as harshly as before. It was ruined by the snorting sound he made then, almost rolling his eyes while he thought about the rest of her statement. "And I don't care about the whole fucking collar business. If they really want to kill me in fourteen days because I won't fuck someone, then they can fucking try."

He didn't die easily, after all.