“Oh yes,” he teased , grinning, “The southern lords will be so much happier once they’re cold and wet and miserable.” As if some of them weren’t displeased enough already.
“And in front of a warm hearth is where I usually prefer to spend my winters. What do you do with yourselves in Winterfell, then? As I understand, it gets much colder there, and you’re buried in snow well into spring.” If it were him, stuck somewhere north of the Riverlands, he'd probably pass the time praying for an early summer, and hoping they didn't run short on firewood. He couldn’t fathom why more of William Stark’s family hadn’t jumped at the chance to travel south with him.