[ he can believe her, about being scary. being who he is, all muscle and stern edges, and her being a woman makes no difference at all. he knows the fierceness of a woman, the way they can just as easily bite back, how they can dig in beneath the skin and rip you apart, in more ways than one. his wife could break him down and stomp on him before he'd ever had the chance to blink, and he's known others just as capable; karen page could be just as much of a threat as anything else that's chased him down for years.
so, yes, he knows that if she speaks of being scary, there could be all the truth to it, really, and maybe he should take better care of maintaining his guard, especially when he's as exposed as he is now.
not that he isn't being just as careful, aware that he's being tested, that every spoken word, every glance, is just as much a challenge as any real threat that could be tossed in front of him. he doesn't steer away, doesn't withdraw himself, even though there lingers a small voice in the back of his head that says he should consider leaving this pool sooner than later.
but he doesn't. ]
Yeah. You should.
[ it isn't a threat, even spoken like one either, despite the darkness present in the quiet rasp. despite the blood stuck to his body, not all his own, despite the broken skins at his knuckles, and the posture of his stance, always ready for a war โ he doesn't position himself like he'd at all hurt her, not physically, not with his blood-stained hands.
his eyes say it too, matching her challenge of sustaining that exchanged stare, losing track of who it is that's reeling in who. ]
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so, yes, he knows that if she speaks of being scary, there could be all the truth to it, really, and maybe he should take better care of maintaining his guard, especially when he's as exposed as he is now.
not that he isn't being just as careful, aware that he's being tested, that every spoken word, every glance, is just as much a challenge as any real threat that could be tossed in front of him. he doesn't steer away, doesn't withdraw himself, even though there lingers a small voice in the back of his head that says he should consider leaving this pool sooner than later.
but he doesn't. ]
Yeah. You should.
[ it isn't a threat, even spoken like one either, despite the darkness present in the quiet rasp. despite the blood stuck to his body, not all his own, despite the broken skins at his knuckles, and the posture of his stance, always ready for a war โ he doesn't position himself like he'd at all hurt her, not physically, not with his blood-stained hands.
his eyes say it too, matching her challenge of sustaining that exchanged stare, losing track of who it is that's reeling in who. ]