A slow, lazy smirk began to curl the edges of the Viking’s lips upwards into a coy sexy smirk that was often displayed when he was angry or, in this case, victorious as he watched her mouth open and then close several times as if she had something to say but suddenly became unsure if she wanted to say it. Or perhaps it was merely that Ragnar was as stubborn as a bull and believed in his Gods and the necessary sacrifices so much that she figured it was pointless to argue further because they would be there until the end of time unless someone gave in. Ragnar intended not to give in because just as her believing that he was insane, he believed so fervently in his Gods. He knew nothing else, and likewise, refused to know nothing else. He watched her turn abruptly and storm off, amusement dancing in his still, clouded with drink eyes.
For now, the Viking had won.