So his hand had made her bleed. Good!

Not so good that this included the possibility than some of said blood, along with residual traces of cosmetic ingredients this damn woman [i]certainly[/i] applied to her face every day, could have attached themselves to his palm. Skarsat had no real proof of that, but even without actually looking at his fingers he rubbed them against each other to get an estimation about how much of a smeary layer of shit there was on his skin. Otherwise though he just kept staring at Solange, his face being kinda stuck in a state of forced idling around because his mind was too busy thinking about...

Defeat. How could this woman just keep doing shittalk all the fucking time ? 'Suckling babe', 'mommy's big boy', 'like he was told...'... for a brief series of moments all these nasty little provocations just did not seem to have any impact because Skarsat was just too flabbergasted by the initial 'love' which had already announced a lot about her overall reaction. Then however, with some noticeable delay, he caught up with Solange's queue of insults.

"You know... I'm no arrogant fool like you who maintains an unshakeable belief in his own infallibility. I know that, despite my training and experience, some of my arrows can and will miss their intended target. I start to think that despite all the real hostiles we might encounter on this endeavour this might actually be a [i]good[/i] message for you."

Having said this, Skarsat raised himself to his full height again and looked down at her for a second or two.

"Now if you'd like to turn this journey into a damned world of fear where a possibly growing number of people outright hates you, then just keep going!" Skarsat turned away from her, but not without trying to hit her foot with his own and put his full weight onto it. Upon success he'd express his regret, which of course would be entirely fake.