[It's almost a relief when his words trigger a different kind of response in her. The sadness and fear, still present and overwhelming, are momentarily masked by something else. Something just as familiar and, in so many ways, much more welcomed.
If this man, whomever he was, stood in front of her now, she wouldn't hesitate in hurling her bedside knife at him. Zevran has been a good enough instructor. She'd go for the kill. Definitely succeed were it her bow by her side instead.
But the man is not in front of her. Only a voice from the book. And the best she can do is scowl at him and let coldness drip from her voice.]
[Voice]
If this man, whomever he was, stood in front of her now, she wouldn't hesitate in hurling her bedside knife at him. Zevran has been a good enough instructor. She'd go for the kill. Definitely succeed were it her bow by her side instead.
But the man is not in front of her. Only a voice from the book. And the best she can do is scowl at him and let coldness drip from her voice.]
Damn you. You don't know me.