[ She continues making bargains while not even having the benefit of solid ground beneath her feet, and yet he is the one accused of arrogance? He has, once more, half a mind to simply wrestle her from his body as gracelessly as necessary, to either fling her back onto the bunk she never should have lifted herself from, or maybe toss her against the bars of their cell to remind her who is the stronger of the two of them, to perhaps rattle some sense into her. Only an idiot would assume that any semblance of 'sense' would take root.
Fine, if she wishes to waste her breath bargaining - ]
Let go, and I will give you a horse. [ To clarify, quickly and roughly, in growing annoyance over her persistent grip - ] A real horse, a fine horse, not one of your farmer's nags. [ A knight's caliber of horse, the sort she has surely never beheld in her life, and it will only come to pass once they have freed themselves, but there is little he can offer in the terms of immediate reward. Aside from the right to breathe, should she earn it.
Her hold lessens, a paltry gain, and he hardens his own grip in response. She is wise not to trust him, and he will never be accused of making the mistake of empathy. He will not assume valor of a rabid cub of a girl, with jabbing knees and scrappy claws. This will all be done by his leave, not by hers.
There is also that oddly tantalizing glimpse of oblivion, only another few moments of crushing away, and wouldn't it be a relief to lapse into some sort of dreamless dark and then wake again? He would wake a prisoner still, but it would at least be upon a map he knew, restrained by foes he had long despised, ones he understood how to manipulate. A deal easier than relying on beggar's bargains and impromptu brawling. ]
no subject
Fine, if she wishes to waste her breath bargaining - ]
Let go, and I will give you a horse. [ To clarify, quickly and roughly, in growing annoyance over her persistent grip - ] A real horse, a fine horse, not one of your farmer's nags. [ A knight's caliber of horse, the sort she has surely never beheld in her life, and it will only come to pass once they have freed themselves, but there is little he can offer in the terms of immediate reward. Aside from the right to breathe, should she earn it.
Her hold lessens, a paltry gain, and he hardens his own grip in response. She is wise not to trust him, and he will never be accused of making the mistake of empathy. He will not assume valor of a rabid cub of a girl, with jabbing knees and scrappy claws. This will all be done by his leave, not by hers.
There is also that oddly tantalizing glimpse of oblivion, only another few moments of crushing away, and wouldn't it be a relief to lapse into some sort of dreamless dark and then wake again? He would wake a prisoner still, but it would at least be upon a map he knew, restrained by foes he had long despised, ones he understood how to manipulate. A deal easier than relying on beggar's bargains and impromptu brawling. ]