Shadowwyn Moor A newcomer in a new land

Sorin listens with a critical ear, snorting himself at her words and behavior. She's a temptress, no matter what facade she is trying to put up. Her smile, the look on her face, her honeyed words. He had seen it enough times to be fooled easily.

"Perhaps it is presumptuous, but I think I can tell what company I desire," he says lowly. His previously neutral look slips for a moment, revealing a coldly calculating expression. "Besides, I have no intention of keeping a temptress company. I've already made that mistake." He curses himself internally for the slight slip.

He laughs once again at her final statement. Friends? Ha,  making friends was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment. "I'm sure you could find plenty of weak willed men to make friends with. But I think I'll pass." She may think she can have him easily, but he will be anything but easy. He hadn't survived the tyrant's reign by being weak. He hadn't survived his heart ripped apart by cowering and craving the presence of whatever a pretty face had to offer. For, although it would never show, he did grudgingly admit to himself that she was fairly attractive. But that didn’t mean he was going to fall prey to whatever trap she was setting.