He looked at the wings with awe when they were wrought to life by the insult of making her a seat. His head turned from side to side to admire the twitching sharp ends at the outer joints of her appendages, and wondered how much damaged they could cause if he'd let them. A creature like her was never unarmed, and he thought that was thrilling. She insisted, even with her words, that he should get off, but he thought of her as little more than a wild mare at the moment. It was impressively fun on her lower back, and the friction also helped entertain his cock. He was sure she had no intention of that, though.<br/><br/>He didn't relent, but wouldn't add hardship for her either, even if the grip on his ankles was a clear sign that she was not entirely helpless. He'd come to regret that when the searing bloomed on his skin. His expression soured and darkened, but even as the hissing of his damage filled the air along with the perfume of cooked person, he didn't say anything. Her leg helped her when she twisted so much, and he found himself rolling on the carpet. It was an unpleasant ordeal, since his cock slapped against the rug with every spin. He supposed it wasn't so bad.<br/><br/>Rysalt stood and wiped his mouth in a display of anger. He looked down at the cuff of slick scabs she'd ornamented his shin with. He sucked in his whore's lip and shook out the foot, as though that would dispel the pain that comes with severe fire. He waved for her to stand if she hadn't already, and tried his weight on the targeted leg. It seemed his muscles were intact. He sighed a little, the first sign of any discomfort, and threw his head to the side and rolled a shoulder, extending that wave into the arm until it ended it a clenched fist.<br/><br/>"You really are the worst house-guest." he muttered as he allowed her to take whatever stance she wanted. He'd already figured her out from before. She was strong and scrappy, but she had mixed her own code of honor into her way of doing battle. She had called him tricky, and that's what he was going to be. "But I like your playfulness." He barreled toward her, suggesting a traditional tackle take-down, low, with his shoulder to her stomach. Soldier like her would have a handful of defenses against it, or she could choose to take it. But a full force ram to her stomach right now would likely be undesired.<br/><br/>He would jump to the side at the last moment, when sh braced or readied herself, favoring his bad leg stubbornly and then launch himself at her from the side, bringing along an unholy right hook, aimed at the side of her neck. He didn't want to waste good healing spells on her, and knuckles to her throat at this velocity would put her in a precarious state, but from the side, it'd just really hurt and stun her. If any of this came to pass, and she fell from his strike, he would open his hand and whack the back of it across her face to wake her up before she hit the floor.<br/><br/>"Up." he'd demand, cock hard and eyes dark. It was an order she'd gladly follow, if she could.