Tyrion can feel him coming up behind him - strange how the Lannisters always seemed to know when one or the other was about. Perhaps it was the feeling of a threat, just resting right there between their shoulder-blades. You could always sense when another predator was close.

He looks up at Jaime, no end of malice in his mis-matched eyes, even as his mouth twisted into a bitter, sardonic smile to match his. "All the whore are yours, brother, if you have tired of our sister's affections."

He eyed the stump, eyed the lack of the sword, and wondered if there was a glass bottle about so he could cut Jaime's balls out as easily as he had gutted Tyrion's heart. Yet he knew he would need the element of surprise there - Jaime was crippled but Jaime was still Jaime.

A mirthless laugh escaped his lips, "Would you even mean it? Or would it be as gold-plated as the rest of you?"