[ Theon rolls his eyes as Loras speaks, moving on to the next corpse just a few feet away. He does seem to remain vaguely interested in he conversation, however, as he continues to respond. ]

What should I care who you bested? Anyone with their wits about them and a sword in their hand could have slain the mad king. The Kingslayer was in the right place at the right time.

[ He pulls a dagger out of the belt of this particular cadaver and tests it with the pad of his thumb, trying to decide if it’s worth keeping or not. It draws blood, so he slides it into his own belt, fixing Loras with a stare. ]

I’m not a Northman. I’m Ironborn. The Northern lords would never last a day on the Iron Islands. Neither would the Southern lords, come to mention it.