[ He laughs again, short, drink joining his lips to swallow even more of the amber liquid. Both burning and numbness mixing together as time progresses. ]

I think you are not a woman to be trifled with, a desert rose that is as beautiful as she is dangerous. [ Honeyed words wholly meant, slipping from his lips as effortless as if he were to simply breathe. ] A woman not so easily charmed by flattery and suggestion.

[ Not that he is attempting to charm her, no, he would not dare. Would he? The warmth makes him reckless, more so than normal, entertaining idle thoughts of baiting a tiger with slabs of meat. Dangerous thoughts to be true, belonging to a man of younger years. Yet they sit nevertheless, a small prickle on the edge of his thoughts. ]