Lake Rodney oh dabbing clown, we are really in it now

She did not like the way he lurked. The way he smelled. The feeling of his eyes upon her. Truthfully the woman could not discern what is was about him that was so unnerving - perhaps the predatory air about him, the lack of substance to support his words; he seemed like a beast that would take what he wanted of her while he could, and she had to be vigilant for her own sake. But at the same time she was distracted by the pain in her leg and the creeping cold that was working its way up, drawn across her fur and soaking her flesh. She craved warmth; he offered more than that just by lingering, and so she was conflicted.

A trade would have to be established. Or she could try and extricate herself from this mess and potentially break a bone. In a time such as this, with ice and snow still deeply relevant, Jocasta knew she could not risk it. But she wasn't going to barter away pieces of herself either.

What do you want? She shot back at him, terse and on-edge.