[ again, she blinks, this time with more puzzlement — but the cause is easy enough to guess at, given how it's the one thing that has been steadily driving Theon away from them, shouting about his distrust and hatred (and confusion, she thinks) at Jon, then her. ]

It is that same thing again, [ she muses, before sighing. ] Don't apologize, Ser Davos, it's hardly your fault. There's something else at work, here. It seems it should be me, apologizing for skipping introductions so rudely.

I'm Sansa. Sansa Stark.