he had lifted his eyes long enough to watch the gradient of emotions flicker over wylla’s face, and if the air had somehow slowed, watched humour flare into place and pause.
it was his own turn to be absolutely shocked, appalled; he took a step back with a flush racing along his chest and a leery curl of his ruff. ”frau!” he uttered, forgetting completely the language in which they had been conversing a mad moment. "das würde ich niemals sagen!”
only then did he see that she was joking, and deflated as though he had been felled, chagrin painting itself into every facet of his being. and only then did he admit to himself that she had been correct. 
while he had been appalled at her suggestion that was the extent of his feeling for her, wylla was not altogether untruthful in her jest. and that was what had spurred mahler so. he was not a lecherous beast, and had seen fit to defend himself.
but now he had come back, now he had seen how wrong he had been, and marveled again at the passion he felt at the sensation that she might have thought ill of his affections.
that was the sum of being a man. even with his stoic nature, slow to wrath, mahler had not escaped the touch of masculinity stamped in his blood.
he looked quite seriously at her a moment, tension dropping from the hard lines of his face and a grudging sheen of amusement to take its place. ”you have alvays teased right to the very edge of humiliation, vylla,” he said solemnly, keeping her name as he felt it he must keep it.
”perhaps that is vhat i liked first. somevone villing to challenge me vhen no one vould dare.” she had seen then beyond the fierce beast and his deterring guard, to the space mahler let few travel.
a glint to his lilac eyes; he was quiet, watching her, watching wylla and waiting for her to react, for he had come to know she was incandescently unpredictable. and to know it was a great part of why he had never forgotten the ferocious litttle she-wolf. 

in response; tears welled in wylla’s fiery glare, and in the next her fangs were bared again. an angered feline, arched and stonewalled again his words.
a leap to make him burn first with chagrin, then with desire; wylla stalked away and he did not follow, demanding control of himself as he pondered the surprise of what she had shouted.
marriage was not something he had considered since marigold, and now the notion was hopelessly out of reach. the earth was not the only thing that had shifted during her absence.
the gargoyle stole closer on tentative steps; he stood downcast and hangdog, shamed beyond all reasoning by his behavior. the sharp hit of her shoulders turned him away; mahler regarded the earth with a low sorrow.
”i vould never seek to cage you, vylla. i do not even ask that you reciprocate my feeling.” his somber gaze traveled over her stiff frame, charcoal ears folding back at the sight of her soul growing veiled once more.
the general straightened thus, a tense bow marking the overwhelming grief stirring within his own heart. ”i spoke out of turn, vylla. i vill go now.”
a sharp about-face, a hardness thinning his lips against their sudden tremble, against the own salt drumbeats at the back of his eyes. ”i vill not seek you out again. you have had ... you have been spared ... any more of my unfit company.”
mahler began to stride away now, refusing to let sadness overtake him: his legs were heavy, muzzle threatening to drag back down to earth. tired, tired. and now the chapter, surely, must close for the both of them.