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Conflict and Interest

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"I'm sorry, babe, it's just - the game went overtime and I'm hella tired," Sansa says with a partially feigned neediness, deftly clamping her cheek down upon her shoulder to keep her cell in place as she maneuvers out of her uniform skirt. Margaery can tell that Joffrey's protesting...but she's the one who has Miss Stark wrapped around her finger, and she knows it.

"No, Joff, I won't see you later, I'm - babe, I'm going to bed," Sansa argues, her frustration beginning to wear on her expression; Margaery stands up from the bed and reaches to unzip the top of Sansa's sexy cheerleading outfit, eliciting a growl when she kisses Sansa's shoulder, because of the proximity.

Well, according to Joffrey, Margaery is the resident bitch here, isn't she?

She grabs the phone.

"Sorry, Joffrey, the signal in here's getting awful. I'm afraid poor Sansa's going to have to hang up. Good night!"

She ends the call and turns the phone off, handing it back to her sighing roommate.

"Come on, you have an exam tomorrow. Give yourself a fucking break," Margaery murmurs, scooting back in front of Sansa and meeting her eyes from a couple of inches away.

"You don't have to be your family mascot all the time," she continues, pressing another kiss to the redhead's shoulder, not bothering to move away any hair falling upon it.

"So what? I can just be yours?" Sansa retorts, but Margaery grins, knowing this time, she won't have to kiss Sansa first.