<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(241, 241, 212)">He liked fiesty, a girl that had a bit of fight in her. Not that it ever did them any good - a man as big and strong as him didn't go down easily. Anyone who had ever been in a real fight knew that a blow to the nuts was only a way to set the blood boiling, to make the anger flare, to make the incoming pain even worse. And with as tall as he was, it was more like her thigh hitting him than the bony part of her knee. If she thought biting his fingers would cause him pain, he'd gladly invite her to the Island Games or the Slave Pits. Her attempts were futile in hurting him, but he got the message loud and clear.<br/>
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He withdrew his hand from covering her face and instead gripped her around the throat. Not like last night, pinning her down to the bed or even when she rode him, but in a controlling, threatening way. His hand squeezed harder this time, pressing her against the wall, lifting her upwards so that she was on her tippy-toes. Only a small sliver of air was allowed into her lungs and his normally pale-blue eyes had taken a darker, more sinister tinge to them.<br/>
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"Never. Lift. A. Hand. To. Me. Again." He snarled, spittle flying from his lips and onto her face. His fingers clenched just a little more, his whole body tense as his anger flared. His other hand balled into a fist and he slammed it into the wall beside her head, even grazing her ear as it went by. So close to her head. The impact had to hurt from the sound alone even if his fists were protected by hardened leather. <br/>
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He had ended peoples lives for less of an infraction against him. It had been all his control to punch the wall instead of pulling the wickedly curved hunting knife at his hip, running it across her throat. She was there on the Guilds dime, to make maps and chart their progress for them. Holger had never even seen a map until he had been at War Meeting while serving with the Empire. They meant little to him. That was what his memory was for. </span><br/><br/><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#f1f1d4">It took a moment more before his hand relaxed around her throat, letting her back down onto the soles of her feet though it still held her there. His other hand withdrew from the wall and rested on the hilt of that blade. He still wasn't opposed to using it. Sometimes cold steel was the best way to answer a discontenting voice. "WHAT..." He paused, trying to wipe the anger from his voice. "What did you want to...discuss?"</span>