[Oh. That... Well, that isn't what she expected. The scars, yes, and she had some idea of his fitness from when they worked together in the fields, but where she comes from, tattoos are rare and largely worn by foreigners or barbarians. They certainly aren't the riot of colour and inexplicable designs that he seems to have all over him.]

[There's something rather fascinating about them, about the way they overlay scars, are scars in their own way. And there's also something unsettling, even disconcerting, about a man whose skin is not his own.]

[She breaks off from staring in order to give him another of those very flat looks at his comment.]

And you would have been likewise rebuffed. How would one even make single combat... sexy?

[All this time, and she still says the word "sexy" like it's a foreign word.]

[Which, well, it is. But that's not the point.]

In any case, I told thee already, I do not mean to hurt thee. And had we fought, I would have done.

[Probably. Maybe. He is quite tough-looking, but he's also old, and she's got quite a high opinion of her own fighting prowess.]

[She rolls her neck, takes a deep breath, and pulls off her bodice the rest of the way. Nothing so interesting as his tattoos under there. Just pert breasts and abs you could cut yourself on.]