Melinda's fear only served to embolden Thomas. Though in truth, it's not like things were going to go any way but his way once he decided to make Melinda his. Her refusals were just a part of the dance that a man and a woman goes through before she surrenders to her fate. The harder won, the more valuable the prize, after all.<br/><br/>Whatever instinct moved Melinda to protect herself with her basket served her well. Thomas' massive fist slammed into it, shattering it and sending her meager possessions flying through the air. He roared in pain and frustration as the ragged edges of bsket he wrecked cut into the back of his hand causing it to bleed when he missed connecting with the softness of Melinda's belly. He glared at her as Melinda back away and tossed out her defiant words but said nothing, just allowed his cold, self assured confidence and raw aggression let her know that she was lying even if she didn't believe she was. Cruel, rumbling laughter nipped at her heels as she turned tail, and what a pretty tail it was, and ran as he shook the wrecked basket off his fist. He stomped after her as it hit the ground and was decended upon by street urchins who picked it clean of anything of value.<br/><br/>"You know you don't want that... the only way you'll ever be far from me is when you're put into the ground," he growled at Melinda's fleeing back. He'd grown up in the Alleyways and knew them like the bak of his hand. He felt no reason to run after her as honestly, she had no where to go he couldn't follow. He drew out one of his knives and ran it's edge along the alleyway's wall, sharpening it's edge on the stone and sending a wicked and aweful sound down the alley into her ears. "I could assist you with that, if you prefer... but I know it would be a waste of a jammy bit o' jam like yourself not to make us both rich with all you have to offer," he said in a tone that was all business, wrapping a 'reasonable' opportunity around a naked threat.