Everywhere she goes in this wretched place, Margaery feels as though she's cursed to feel unsettled, like an insect that's been removed from its habitat and placed in a laboratory for the amusement of the gods. Even now, as she reaches for instinct to respond to this stranger the way she does for any man, there's something that keeps her unsteady, confidence clouded by uncertainty and his hand, somehow, the center of her focus.

She moves to pull her arm away, only to lose her balance again as the crowd swells and cheers at what sounds like another poor animal brought out to be slaughtered.

"I beg your pardon, ser." she says through her teeth, smile undoubtedly strained; she can't be entirely sure that she's not accidentally issuing some sort of wordless challenge by the way she almost glares back in her attempt to remain calm. She will not lose any more control of her situation than she already has. "I only meant to escape. Kindly let me go and I will bother you no more."