Solange moved a hand up to wipe the blood from her lip and kept it there to cover her grin as Skarsat let loose. What he called foolish arrogance she viewed as confidence. Still, it wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time a man viewed her own self-assurance as something that threatened their standing. She’d hope that Skarsat wasn’t quite the simpleton he appeared to be, but sometimes the simplest solution was the right one. There were only two reasons for a man to ever get so upset at a woman for, as far as she was capable of seeing it (as Solange was incapable of ever seeing her own faults), nothing more than a little teasing. The first reason she thought of was that Skarsat hated women. Yet while he had undermined Nora by striking Solange, there wasn’t enough evidence beyond that. He solely seemed to hate Solange and Solange only. Thus the second reason became the only reason, and it brought so much joy to Solange that her hand could no longer hide her bloody smile. Skarsat had a crush on her, and like a young boy pushing a girl he liked into the mud he was confounded by his feelings and could only express them through sheer aggression. Goodness, she couldn’t wait to be stuck on a ship with him! How fun it would be to break his oversized heart. [color=orchid][b]“Sweetheart, with how tall you are I fear the reason some of you arrows may miss is because you are simply firing over your target’s head. With all of your experience, it confuses me as to why I must be the one to tell you that maybe you just have to aim lower,”[/b][/color] she said, her eyes catching his foot tracing the ground towards her skirt. As Skarsat turned to move away from her as well as wallop her with a sharp kick, Solange deftly stepped over his foot and moved out of the chair as she joined him at his side. In stark contrast to her advice to him, he really should’ve aimed higher. She dragged a sharp finger down the side of his arm, leaving a faint trail of her own blood, and whispered, [b][color=orchid]“Do you believe I’m afraid of others hating me? There's no difference between being loved or being hated. Either way, I'm the only thing they can ever think about.”[/color][/b] Solange moved quickly out of his reach, cast one glance back at Skarsat as Sheri entered the room to ask for Percy, and then Solange pretended to be more interested in plucking a plum from the table than avoiding a smack that would surely come if her touch lingered for another second. She spun around to lean against the table, set the uneaten plum down, and pulled out a compact mirror and a handkerchief. She glared at the bruise forming on her cheek, and then wiped the ruined lipstick and blood from her mouth. [color=orchid][b]“Percival is doing his job. It’s one of the admirable things about him,”[/b][/color] said Solange. Percival had a knack about giving himself deniability, knowing the less he saw the better his day went. He’d slipped out the moment the room had turned hostile. She looked towards Skarsat who was supposed to be waking Neh’miah with the man but held her tongue. Voi must’ve been playing a game with them. If everyone had been even a bit more timely, they probably would’ve walked right into the Sheriff while leaving the tavern. Solange just worried as she twisted the ring on her finger that the goddess wasn’t done twisting fate’s thread yet this morning. She tilted her head towards Nora. [color=orchid][b]“Darling, you said yourself that Vargas wants everyone on that ship, and none of us would dare disappoint the Lord, ”[/b][/color] said Solange as she began to touch up the bruise on her cheek with makeup. [color=orchid][b]“I doubt I could knock as loudly as our Tork friend or cool the passion between two lovers as quickly as you, but if you would like I could return with dear Sheri here and help ensure that the only thing the Sheriff and his men get this morning is a free meal. Alternatively, I can meet you all at the ship. It’d give me plenty of time to turn what would’ve been poor Neh’miah’s cabin into a drawing room.”[/b][/color]