Her stare grows sharp as he takes her challenge and disregards it, like she's an idiot for asking; as he takes her hands like she's a child.
There's a hot flush of anger under her skin when he elaborates, flooding the part of her that might like to temper her harsher inclinations. She doesn't want this from him, not now, not when she walked into this knowing exactly what she was doing and she came out limping but alive, not in the sense of surviving, but awake.
"Asked him for a fight," she corrects curtly, and pulls her hands away. "And I held mine against him, just like I've done a hundred times before, against men who'd've seen me dead, and I don't remember you kicking up any fuss then. So I ask again, what the fuck's your problem?"
It's a chance for him to back down, to walk away, and she wants more than anything for him to take it, even though she knows him better than she knows anyone, and she knows he won't.
no subject
There's a hot flush of anger under her skin when he elaborates, flooding the part of her that might like to temper her harsher inclinations. She doesn't want this from him, not now, not when she walked into this knowing exactly what she was doing and she came out limping but alive, not in the sense of surviving, but awake.
"Asked him for a fight," she corrects curtly, and pulls her hands away. "And I held mine against him, just like I've done a hundred times before, against men who'd've seen me dead, and I don't remember you kicking up any fuss then. So I ask again, what the fuck's your problem?"
It's a chance for him to back down, to walk away, and she wants more than anything for him to take it, even though she knows him better than she knows anyone, and she knows he won't.