It was always dangerous to underestimate an opponent. It was almost always dangerous to call an opponent’s bluff, too. It wasn’t wise to entreat cornered animals to bite. In so much as Shy was, herself, a cornered animal, she had made a drastic error. It took a good deal of effort not to react in some absurd way as he undid his pants. There was the panicked girl and, equally at liberty to react in shock, the panicked ruse of a boy. Shy swallowed hard. Perhaps she was famished? Eyes darting toward the corners of the tent, anywhere, really, except for in his direction.<br/><br/>He caught her attention, drawing her back to focus on his present pride with a snap, like she was a dog. It wasn’t as if she could have done anything else. She’d been trained well enough to take in her surroundings with that beastly sort of willingness by the guards. Marius had been clear that avoiding a present reality was to ask for a present failure. In this particular instance, Shy thought he might be wrong. “Ah, well, forgive me then.” She started. For asking, implying, whatever she’d done. Shy had hoped it sounded cavalier, but it probably hadn’t.<br/><br/>How very cruel for him to play back. He was more adept if the intent was to invoke shame. Shy had followed him on campaign. That meant she’d given him the writ to her suffering, too. At least, that was the sort of camaraderie it seemed men had. She’d not known anyone more civilized. Esfelt, to be fair, still had a keener taste for malice than she’d bargained for.<br/><br/>Shy would have cried with the frustration of his beckoning if it weren’t likely to pleasure Silverum further. She came, crawling because he’d had her on her knees, and stared at him like she’d have jumped at his throat hadn’t there been some required shred of decorum between them. If Esfelt hadn’t believed she wanted to fight for him, he should have then. She was bewildered and furious, but obedient despite it. How marvelous of young men to dream of death across the border.<br/><br/>His finders wound in her hair, yanking her to stare at him better as he brought his length to her face. He’d have her meet both his weapons, then. She would have begged for Namer again if it might spare her.<br/><br/>She might have been less horrified if she thought he’d known she was a woman. Lust was a mighty thing, after all. She could have even submitted to it. Like this, though, pretending with her brother’s name, this was the rawest sort of afront. “Well, Ser, you can only pretend so far in training. Come at me with Namer next time and I’ll show you a man’s wits.” She huffed, remarkably still so as not to invite any sort of pressure between herself and his arousal. Shy’s brow furrowed. “I’d suppose, out there, you’d not have wooden swords put in your hand at your convenience, either.”<br/><br/>Pride was likely one of Shy’s greater downfalls. Peculiar when she was willing to bow her head for her own ends. The girl had forged all sorts of strange edges to her ethos. When she thought she could no longer take the degrading pose he’d yanked her to, she lurched hard to her left knee and away from him. It was an effort to pull her strands free from his grip, regardless of the bits she might lose between his fingers. She hissed when she was free, splayed on her side then, but further from his offending length. “Either way, Ser, I’d ask that you respect my sense of propriety, at least. You can respect my worth as a man in time.” She said. Shy had meant it in the scope of her fighting, but it did little to help her case. There was a thick silence between them that weighed heavier on her shoulders than his disrespect. Denying his ridiculous assertions of dominance might well have her left behind. Clearly, she’d not earned his consideration as a soldier yet.<br/><br/>“If nothing else, even a lowbrow boy like me deserves to be courted, no?” she laughed at her own brazen, a bizarre and uncomfortable sound. He’d clearly unnerved her. Shy did not know how to navigate this sort of wild.