With one ear, she heard Sthenae's aggressive answer and she snarled. She would get back at her. One day. Soon. But now, it was him and her. She raised her own eyebrow, surprised at his apparent offence. She was beet root red by now and the mention of battle stirred something in her. The love of battle. The need to fight. The need to lash out an someone. Anyone. Perhaps because he had made her feel something else than fear. Perhaps because he had<em>licked</em>her. Perhaps because Sthenae's suggestion has sent more shivers through her, and they all seemed to echo within her still untouched cunt. She snarled again, and, without warning, using only her strong, muscular legs, she jumped up on the bar. Not even at this height did she truly loom over him, but she had a slight advantage and she kicked at him. Actually, she kicked at his wine cup, meaning to spill it over him.<br/><br/>"Don't provoke me,<em>legendary creature</em>. It was weak of me, it is true. I have been disarmed today, disarmed to see where I have been taken. But you do not know my ways, or my beliefs. Let us see if clothing truely slows me down, satyr. Fight me. It would be an honour to defeat you." She jumped again, this time landing on her hands and flipping off the bar, a few feet away. She was smiling now, but it was a furious, wild smile, her hair was disheveled and her clothes were all but hanging off her. She didn't even care anymore. She motioned for him to come forth.