Overheard at the Westeros Starbucks

“Hey, do you mind scooching your pointy knife chair in just a bit? The good outlet is right behind where you’re brooding.”

“I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me, I don’t remember all their names. I have been sold like a broodmare; chained and betrayed, defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through those years in exile? Mocha Frappuccinos! Can I get a straw?”

“Excuse me, I think you’ve got some foam in your hair, it’s all weird and white. Oh, that *is* your hair. My bad.”

“Fire and Ice Chai for Queen, um, er, Da-eee-um, Day…? of the Hose Tar –sorry! the First of Her … Mane? Queen of … Sandals? Your Chai is ready.”

“Is my latte still not here? What, exactly, is the holdup? It’s like the Long Night in this place! I’m getting grayscale over here!”

“Look, [reads] what is that odd title on your chest? Zac? Look, Zac, if I wanted Milk of the Poppy, I would have asked for Milk of the Poppy.  You know who never gets my order wrong? The Lady Sorceress of the Froth, Steamer of the Product of the Cows, my Khaleesi and best barista in all of Qarth!”

 “For those who come after us and those who come after them for as long as men draw breath.”

“So, what, like ten minutes, then?”

“Ayar? Ayar? Who is A-y-a-r? Am I speaking High Valyrian here? I should kill you all! All of you! It’s Arya Stark of Winterfell and I am going home! But winter is coming! [she exits, then returns] give me my venti, [spits] crow!”

“Do you have the sacred code for the restroom? I’ve been traveling from Beyond the Wall and – whew! – that is one long ride! Also, can I maybe get a chalice of water for my dragons?”

“This humidity is hell on leather armor. My feathers are wilted. My swords are all rusty. I just vanquished ten thousand of my enemies as I saw them mount their steeds and thunder into the lands of all of our sacred warlords. Gimme one of those cute little mini-bagels and a cake pop. No, the one with the sprinkles.”