Sansa has dealt with vulgar men before. She'd spent quite a bit of time in Sandor Clegane's company, once upon a time, and his words don't shock her so much as the thing that's currently in her arm. She looks at it in both horror and fascination, unsure of both the use of the device and his name for it. A phone? What is a phone?

There is no time to think upon it, though, because he's insisting that they need to get out of the room to escape someone and Sansa is inclined to agree. She doesn't know the man before her at all but since he seems as frightened as she is, perhaps he's someone she can trust temporarily. She tries to decide if she should give her proper name; names have power, after all, and if these people know they have the Queen in the North, they would have much power indeed.

"Sharra Snow," she says, thinking of the first bastard name she could come up with. It possibly might have been better to identify herself as one of the Free Folk with no surname but she's too gently reared for that. Anyone would know she'd grown up in a castle - she has to think like Arya if she means to survive this.

"What does this thing do," she asks, pointing at the phone in her arm. "Why is it here?"