Ayame's soft lips set Isakar's skin on fire.  Her sweet voice, and gentle words threatened to cut through his anger and bring him cowing to her.  Hardening himself, he only lightly applied pressure to her wrists,<em>"Yes you are here under me.  I was the fool this night, I waited at that ale house for hours.  In the vain hope to feel your touch, to hear your voice, to smell your scent, for what purpose...to sit with myself." </em>Isakar pauses, his anger swelling as he talks.  Getting his anger back under control he takes brief notice of the cool breeze blowing across his skin distracting him further from his anger towards Ayame.