Sansa startles for a moment but it's almost as if something calming comes over her, as if it's a perfectly rational reaction to those sorts of words to keep talking as if nothing's wrong.

"Certainly, my lord. Killing someone is hardly ever productive," she says, watching him carefully. "Unless they've harmed you. I can't harm anyone at all. I don't know how to fight. I ran away to this place from my husband who did violence to me day and night. I couldn't defend myself if I wanted to and that isn't much sport, is it?"