Frying Pans are for...

The girl helped him more than he thought she could and he didn't bother to hide his surprise. Together they staggered towards the brush. Nice and covered and- oh she was making a bed. Ashmedai tsked a little, "You don't gotta fuss over me," he said, this time being a little more sincere.

Although, nothing could quite prepare him for the words fumbled next. Ok, maybe he was dead. Had he died from his wounds? Maybe he was starting to feel guilty. Each word struck him slowly, one by one.

Anything he wanted?
Did he want her?

Hell yeah was the obvious answer. He wasn't one to turn down an offer like that, but...

Ashmedai came to the woman slowly, entering the bedding area and coming to stand by her.

"I do," he rumbled. "But are you sure you want that? With someone like me?"

He had to be sure. He had to. If she did, by god he wouldn't deny her, but he needed to make sure.