He saw her fear and expected her to run. When she got out of the truck, he thought she would. Every step she took towards him, and with each Hallbjorn thought she would turn and flee in the horror of what he was and what he could do. He could see every detail of her body trembling in sharp detail; immortally keen sight made a mockery of the night. When her eyes at last left his and looked over his damaged chest and torn shirt, he was sure that was the end. Or else that the scent of blood had overwhelmed her fear and the scent of sweet red was in control of her actions.<br/><br/>The Berserker wanted very much to believe that she did not care.<br/><br/>For him.<br/><br/>He was brutally aware of how monstrous he looked in the state he was in. He was brutally aware that his eyes were the colour of the storm.<br/><br/>With baited breath Hallbjorn waited for her to turn away or show her disgust or do something to reject him. Or to accept him as he saw himself and not as anyone worthy.<br/><br/><em>No, don't!</em>He thought as he saw the resolve forming in her eyes and she reached out for his hand. Her small hand touched his. Her touch made him feel a lot of different things that he did not want to feel. She attracted him in a way that made him want to retreat, but he could no more retreat from her than the sun could fail to rise in the morning. She was his. His fated match. Even if he were taken to the other side of the world he would not be able to stay away. No matter how much control he exerted over himself . . .<br/><br/>Before he knew she had him back into the truck. He was in the passenger's side and she was driving them away. Hallbjorn stared without really seeing. His breathing was heavy and the strain of entering a rage state so fully and the injuries he suffered was draining him. He wanted to believe that was what was stopping him from doing something to keep this from happening with Kara. Everything she was doing was binding him to her, strengthening the connection he felt towards her.<br/><br/>For<em>so long</em>he'd wanted someone to care for him and take care of him.<br/><br/>When they were near the gas station, Hallbjorn closed his eyes briefly. They stayed closed - although he was awake - while Kara parked and came to the passenger side of the truck. He listened to her tell him that she thought it was not his fault that things were the way they were - which was true but he was still part of it. Part of him wanted for her to blame him just as much as another part wanted to latch onto her absolution. The man opened his eyes when Kara asked to treat his wounds, gazing at the roof of the truck's interior. The wounds were already healing, but they were all very deep cuts. The claws of the Lykae when they loosed the beast were terrible weapons that all immortals rightly dreaded. He nodded slowly, and let out a slow breath. And as he let out that breath he let go of the berserker rage. His body returned to its normal state, muscles deflating as the rage returned to slumber within the Berserker's body. As he returned to normal, he looked to her and nodded his assent to her treating his wounds.<br/><br/>"We are still getting ice cream." The blond man told her as he lay his head back against the headrest. "We just have to go through the drive-thru." He exhaled through his nose, and closed his eyes, schooling his face not to show the pain he felt, trying to banish the storm from his eyes. "I am going to buy you the largest peanut butter cup Blizzard they sell, female." His pale face had a sheen of sweat as he forced himself not to show his pain. He swallowed and let out a breath. He opened his eyes and could not, for the moment, hide the pride he felt for her. His eyes stayed stormy, but then he turned his gaze up to the roof of the truck cabin and let out another difficult breath.