Tormund: You're the one they call the dog. The Hound: Fuck off. Tormund: They told me you were mean. Were you born mean or do you just hate wildlings. The Hound: I don't give two shits about wildlings. It's gingers I hate. Tormund: Gingers are beautiful. We are kissed by fire. Just like you. The Hound: Don't point your fucking finger at me.
Thoros: You still mad at us, boy? Gendry: You sold me to a witch. Thoros: A priestess. I'll admit, it is a subtle distinction. Beric: We're fighting a great war. Wars cost money. Gendry: I wanted to be one of you. I wanted to join the brotherhood, but you sold me off... like a slave. Do you know what she did to me? She strapped me down in the bed. She stripped me naked. The Hound: Sounds alright so far. Gendry: And put leeches on me. The Hound: Was she naked, too? Thoros: She needed your blood. Gendry: Yes, thank you. I know that. The Hound: Could have been worse. Gendry: She wanted to kill me. They would have killed me if it wasn't for Davos. The Hound: But they didn't, did they? So what are you whinging about? Gendry: I'm not whinging. The Hound: Your lips are moving and you're complaining about something. That's whinging. This one's been killed six times. You don't hear him whinging about it.