Ronan followed her line of sight briefly to realise she wasn't looking at anything in particular, that there was no danger or looming figure in the fog. She was simply being stubborn, refusing to meet his gaze. He exhaled sharply through his nose, a short puff of warm air that brushed against the short fur of her chest, an inhale drew her scent in and his nose wrinkled. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed, he wasn't nose blind but he wasn't an animal, he could control himself and intended to do so. Not that she was making it easy.
The dry snark of her voice had him rolling his eyes. His rage had simmered down, returned to its baseline level of annoyance, was mostly manageable behind a veneer of gritted teeth civility. If you could even call keeping a lady pinned in the mud civil.
"I think I prefer you where you are." He admitted, not quite liking how that came out. The connotations of his own words weren't lost on him, nor how she would interpret them. "You should be grateful, mujer. Anyone else might have ripped your throat out. Or your tongue." The fact he'd pointed that out specifically insinuated he'd thought about it, only briefly though.
![[Image: PzMsxDx.png]](https://i.imgur.com/PzMsxDx.png)