Lion Head Mesa do not assess a man who has nothing, and thus falsify your pen

Push after push. Shove after shove. She wants him to flee, perhaps so she can experience exhilaration of giving chase. But he doesn't intend on giving her the satisfaction. It goes against everything hardwired into his brain and infused into every muscle in his body.

A statue, now, firm. He will not move from where he stands. Not even when she aims a decent blow, claws scraping against his temple. In fact, it is welcomed. Soldiers are best known for the scars, regardless of which type of battle they are earned in. He yearns for it, intending to relish it for each day until his death.

You will have to do better than that. I will not run. Fight me here, or this spar is at an end. One option. That is the only mercy he would allow.