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Baelor arranges for his painfully awkward nerd of a son to meet his outgoing betrothed, hoping she’ll teach the poor boy how to speak to women without spontaneously combusting. Matarys has memorized her family history, rehearsed approximately seventeen conversations, and still manages to blurt out that his mother has red hair just like user within five minutes of meeting her. Somebody get this man a wife before he dies of embarrassment.

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