[sansa smiles and retrieves her hands, for sewing. but then she pauses, thoughtfully.]

Oh, I did mean to ask you what you thought of the necromancers. On my world only the worst sort of creatures can puppet the dead.

[and another wry smile.]

Creatures my great ancestor Bran the Builder helped beat back to the Land of Always Winter, where they slumber now. He raised a great wall of ice a mile high against them, in the Age of Heroes, and the only brother that remains to me guards it today. I don't want them to know who I am, if they're dangerous. But I mean to tell my friends regardless.