The Heartwood You want me to stay

He revels in her discomfort. He likes making pretty women squirm after all. Her gaze is hard, focused, watchful, practically dissecting him for any hints of ill intent. Too bad he’s radiating ill intent. He can’t help it. His time in The Ring made him indifferent to others emotions and he swears he’s killed more wolves and dogs than fresh meals he’s hunted. Not this one though, he won’t kill her. He just wants to tease — have a bit of fun maybe. 

When her voice meets his ears he watches her intently, she’s keeping up a brave face but he can tell how uneasy she’s truly feeling. At least it’s working. That means he’s still got it. Or maybe it’s just his fucked up face that’s scaring people off. Usually they like his accent, so it must be his face. After all, it seems like she’s trying to look at his eyes without actually looking. Maybe she doesn’t find him handsome enough. How unfortunate.

He shrugs to her words with that same smirk. “Maybe. It’s entertaining.” The ruined man admits casually.

It’s then that he moves away from her. He has to ease off some or she might just blow away in the wind. So he lazily sidles further away from her, almost going as far as to turn his back on her. 

Turning towards her he allows a low rumble of laughter to bubble up past scarred lips. “¿Qué? It’s working isn’t it? Is it my face?” He accuses gently, accented words slightly slurred as they roll off his tongue. “Too fucked up to look at, huh chica.” He doesn’t say it with sourness in his voice. Rather, it sounds like it doesn’t even bother him at all and he’s just teasing her. Which he definitely is. 

He hardly gives her any time to answer before he’s butting in again.“My bad, I’ll do better next time.” He jokes darkly, referencing the fight with the white witch that made him this way in the first place.