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“So tell me, Red,” said the huntsman, glancing up in the waning sunlight. “Why are you out here all alone with not a single weapon on you?”
Nickname given
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re difficult?” he asked, leaning back and stretching out his long legs ostentatiously, as if he knew he cut a striking figure. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re infuriating?” I replied, giving him a tight-lipped smile.
“No one has ever found me as interesting as you seem to.” “Clearly, no one has been paying enough attention,”
“Will breakfast improve your mood?” “Maiming you would improve my mood,”
“You’re a violent little witch, aren’t you?”
“Something about you makes me lose all capacity for rational thought.” “Because I make you so angry?” I pressed, leaning into him a little. “Because you make me want things I shouldn’t be wanting, Red,” he growled, sending a shiver up my spine.
He was still on his knees before me, and the look on his face was that of a pilgrim finally arrived to worship at the feet of a saint.
“You are an unexpected surprise, Red,” he whispered. “And I’m not sure I deserve you.”
