Sea Lion Shores beauty queen on a silver screen

<style type="text/css">table.ragnar {background: #ffffff url("http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v190/theder/ragnardertable_zpsefab268a.png") no-repeat top center;}</style>

Ragnar's smirk deepened when Kipling taunted him with the 'good things come to those who earn it' spiel. She was right, he knew, and her willingness to keep him strung along only heightened his enjoyment of the game. It kept him interested; he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. It was similar to the high he got in battle. "Are you sure you just don't like the idea of keeping me awake at night?" The Viking teased her in a soft murmur, the depths of his glacier eyes dancing with a mischief that matched her own. "Then I will earn it." He whispered with determination steeled in his tone. He had no qualms about earning things, believing that hard work did truly pay off. So, he let the topic of her name go, accepting her game. He was patient, when he wanted to be, and he would display such patience because the game required it of him. Ragnar's head canted slightly to the left, exposing the unmarred half side of his head, letting his gaze rest absently on the horizon in contemplation as he listened to her words. His lips twitched, brow began to furrow slightly as he prepared to tell her the truth: that he did not believe that the Sea nor Sky could be read. That weather didn't have movements because it was Thor who made storms, and if it stormed that Thor was either very angry or celebrating. That “thunder” was the the sound of Thor striking his anvil Mjölnir. "No. No one can predict Thor's mood," Ragnar spoke simply, firmly. "The Norns decide our Fates," Basically, Ragnar considered determining the future in any degree was a bunch of horse crap. He did not come right out and say it but he thought that the man who had told her he could do those things lied to her.