[Unfortunately for Jon, Arid is not a bound machine to be called off when he’s had enough. After all, she had promised consequences—plural.
The next thing he’ll feel is a steel-toed boot driven into his stomach.]
I am not yours to command. [Her voice is all cold fury now, a far cry from her earlier monotone. With one hand, she reaches down, fingers wrapping around his neck. Once she has a hold of him, it is almost effortless for her to lift him to his feet by his throat—and then some. When she’s forced him to his toes, she once again raises the needle in her other hand and, with one forceful swing, send it arcing down towards his face—
—only for it to halt mere centimeters from his eye.]
no subject
The next thing he’ll feel is a steel-toed boot driven into his stomach.]
I am not yours to command. [Her voice is all cold fury now, a far cry from her earlier monotone. With one hand, she reaches down, fingers wrapping around his neck. Once she has a hold of him, it is almost effortless for her to lift him to his feet by his throat—and then some. When she’s forced him to his toes, she once again raises the needle in her other hand and, with one forceful swing, send it arcing down towards his face—
—only for it to halt mere centimeters from his eye.]
You will answer me.