Arya (creepy stare): You make that weapon I designed yet?
Blacksmith (apprentice): Yes.
Arya (creepy question): How many women you you knock dem boots with?
Blacksmith Apprentice (remembering she's phenomenal with weapons and he just handed her a huge one): Gee, how does one remember such things?
Arya (mega creepy): you know...tell me
Blacksmith Apprentice (calculating the number that will not get his throat slit if he says the wrong one): Three? Yeah. Three. I have all of my (straight) teeth in medieval times. I'm not covered in rickets and rampant malnutrition. I have a job and I grew up and live in Whore Central. I'm played by an attractive person who waxes his chest, so definitely...three.
Arya: Great. I've thought you could get it since I met you.
Blacksmith Apprentice: Since back when you could successfully pass as a boy and were still processing watching your pop's head get cut off?
Arya: I kill people all the time; have I mentioned that again in the past 30 seconds?
Blacksmith Apprentice: Um, I too have always wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you when you were just a crossdressing preteen riddled with PTSD.
Arya: So, I kill people all the time; have I mentioned that? But I ain't been 'bout that sex yet, and we gon' die so I wanna know what it feels like.
Blacksmith Apprentice (quickly, under his breath): It's probably going to feel like VD transmission and unplanned pregnancy.
Arya: What was that?
Blacksmith Apprentice: I said that I would love to enact the sex at the psycho munchkin rich girl, who I'm easily four points ahead of on a ten point scale, in a foundry where I've been wearing leather pants (and no underwear) next to a blazing forge. We have zero chemistry, but, you know, I'm into that.
Arya: Check this out. Not only am I super pale, I'm covered in grisly, massive, purple scars.
Blacksmith Apprentice: Thank God. There's no way I could perform if you were not.
Arya: Have I mentioned that I cut people's faces off and wear them?
Blacksmith Apprentice: Your words are like verbal viagra. Truly.
Arya: And remember, we can't make this last forever because we have an army of undead descending on us to cut us into little pieces and the pieces that aren't cut up will reanimate to go kill other people, so you're gonna need to be quick about it.
Blacksmith Apprentice: So you want me to speed through pseudo forcible sex at an awkward virgin on itchy-ass hay?
Arya: Yes. That.
Blacksmith Apprentice: I'd love to make this last hours, but I'll figure out how to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Arya: Also, we gotta do this sober
Blacksmith Apprentice: FFS. FML.
Arya: What was that?
Blacksmith Apprentice: YOLO?