“I don’t wear red,” Sansa says quietly, but with steel underneath, “or gold - not ever.”
In the act of pulling out a white gown covered in lush, embroidered red roses, Susan pauses, eyeing the frothy golden skirts of the confection that had previously been her second choice; almost, almost, she says something, even opens her mouth to let some nonsense spill out about redheads and red not being such an awful combination, really, before she chances to catch Sansa’s eye; to see the set of her mouth, firm against trembling, the tightness of her jaw, her hands twisted around each other, pale against the deep grey of her skirts.
“Of course,” she says instead, settling the dress back into place with nary a hint of regret, fingers dancing over the rainbow of her wardrobe, “you’re quite right, red is not your color at all, how silly of me - but I’ve always thought blue looked charming on a redhead, don’t you agree?” and the tremulous smile on Sansa’s face is all the answer she could need.
Filling in the Blanks and Gaps
In the act of pulling out a white gown covered in lush, embroidered red roses, Susan pauses, eyeing the frothy golden skirts of the confection that had previously been her second choice; almost, almost, she says something, even opens her mouth to let some nonsense spill out about redheads and red not being such an awful combination, really, before she chances to catch Sansa’s eye; to see the set of her mouth, firm against trembling, the tightness of her jaw, her hands twisted around each other, pale against the deep grey of her skirts.
“Of course,” she says instead, settling the dress back into place with nary a hint of regret, fingers dancing over the rainbow of her wardrobe, “you’re quite right, red is not your color at all, how silly of me - but I’ve always thought blue looked charming on a redhead, don’t you agree?” and the tremulous smile on Sansa’s face is all the answer she could need.