Sansa lifts her eyes at Jon's voice, glancing at him from across the table. She's impossibly angry at him, yes, but he's also her brother. She doesn't have so many of those that she can go and toss them aside like so much garbage. Still, when she speaks, it's a bit formal and cool.

"It would make sense that others would try to fill the contracts left vacant by the power plant's failure. Not to mention all the restaurants that seem to be petitioning for more protection."

Sansa draws out one of the complaints, pushes it across the table. "This one wants guards posted at the door morning, noon and night because they think the landens are animals. Until I came here, I would be considered a landen myself. I still feel like one."