[That makes her laugh again, though this time it's a little hoarser, stifled by the tightness of his grip.]
Killed Dave Hollis well enough, and him armed with naught but his guitar.
[And she can't find pleasure in that, not remembering how surprised he looked when the black and red and void blossomed between his ribs, not thinking of that poor familiar face covered in the makeshift shroud of her serape, not knowing he was an innocent. There's no satisfaction in it, but there is a certainty that she wouldn't have felt a day earlier. Show me you can kill a man, he says, and she almost wants to tell him to speak to Janet Hollis, if he doubts it, ask her if her poor husband ever came home. Aye, she can kill a man. She doesn't yet know how to feel about that knowledge, but she has it, nonetheless.]
[And would her father be proud? Perhaps not. He'd forgive her killing Sheriff Avery, she thinks, for he knew the kind of man Avery was. But Dave Hollis? Or, for that matter, this nameless knight?]
[No way to know. In any case, it doesn't matter.]
I don't need 'ee dead, anyroad. You'd faint before you died, and that's all I need.
Let me go, and I'll let 'ee go. [Meantime, she tightens her grip a little, gripping at the collar of her own tunic to anchor herself. There's strength in her still, and while his grip is uncomfortably tight, she's confident that she can choke him by the throat before he can choke her by the chest. Even if he might break a couple of her ribs along the way, which she'd rather avoid. She's broken ribs before. It's survivable.]
no subject
Killed Dave Hollis well enough, and him armed with naught but his guitar.
[And she can't find pleasure in that, not remembering how surprised he looked when the black and red and void blossomed between his ribs, not thinking of that poor familiar face covered in the makeshift shroud of her serape, not knowing he was an innocent. There's no satisfaction in it, but there is a certainty that she wouldn't have felt a day earlier. Show me you can kill a man, he says, and she almost wants to tell him to speak to Janet Hollis, if he doubts it, ask her if her poor husband ever came home. Aye, she can kill a man. She doesn't yet know how to feel about that knowledge, but she has it, nonetheless.]
[And would her father be proud? Perhaps not. He'd forgive her killing Sheriff Avery, she thinks, for he knew the kind of man Avery was. But Dave Hollis? Or, for that matter, this nameless knight?]
[No way to know. In any case, it doesn't matter.]
I don't need 'ee dead, anyroad. You'd faint before you died, and that's all I need.
Let me go, and I'll let 'ee go. [Meantime, she tightens her grip a little, gripping at the collar of her own tunic to anchor herself. There's strength in her still, and while his grip is uncomfortably tight, she's confident that she can choke him by the throat before he can choke her by the chest. Even if he might break a couple of her ribs along the way, which she'd rather avoid. She's broken ribs before. It's survivable.]