If he didn't get his a** off of the ground and stop laughing, she swore to god, he was going to come to regret ever deciding to marry a woman who could both kick his a**
and withhold certain privileges without batting an eyelash. A narrow eyed look was leveled on him as her arms crossed over her chest, the warning signs of her famous harpy-like fury clear in the way she stood, in the slight reddening of her cheeks, and in the tell-tale twitch that was just beginning to tick away in her left eyelid.
He was going to be a dead man in five....four...three...tw----
Ah, good. He was finished then. She remained stiff as she followed him, however, her not-so-better-half not completely out of danger just yet, her silence telling as she chose
not to rise to the bait of his singing, though when he mentioned her under-attire, she had to take a deep breath and hold it, willing herself to find some calm, deep inside of herself, if such a thing even existed at this point.
It lasted until they got to the ring, where she also began to check her mount over, making sure the saddle wasn't loose, and that the reins were attached properly. Finally, she whirled towards him with a level glare.
"The only thing that's going to malfunction,
darling, is you, after I kick your balls so hard you end up with a scrotum filling that empty eye socket."
Sadly, this wasn't even an empty threat.
Quote:
"SOME WEIRD FURRY s**t":
[ Jousting Damage ]: 5
[ Jousting Speed ]: 6
[ Jousting Durability ]: 7
AGGRESSION: 2
