Her flippant comment had not been well thought out. In truth, it was an extension of her own guilt rather than an accusation of his origins, but it yielded a surprising result. She watched stonily as shock reshaped his face, adding life into the grim expression he'd worn before he hid it again.
Interesting.
Given precious little else to do other than stew and fret over her child, Roisin leaned into it, picking at the soft spot the same way she did with her own anxieties. "Highly unlikely." She answers matter-of-factly, a grim lightness in her eyes. Tormenting him - though it would likely be a stain on her character - was preferable to her original plan for the day. "You don't look like anyone I know."
Well, Cullen, maybe, but where Cullen was surprisingly elegant, this man was rugged. Roughly hewn around the edges. Gruff. Wild.
Like her father.
Maybe that was why she felt compelled to ignore his commands.
"You smell like Luthien." She states matter-of-factly, shifting her weight from one hip to the other in what seemed like a never ending quest to be comfortable this late in her pregnancy.
"So I guessed," she admitted with nonchalance. Her shrewd eyes narrowed on his expression, wondering if he would give himself away again. "Was I right?"
The little dun is painfully aware of how reckless she is being. This man is unknown to her. He could be a territory lead, a Lagoon thug, or anything else. Another Cullen or Tyr or Arranck. He could prove to be troublesome if she needles too far, especially given that her capacity for self-defense is largely limited to words at this point. Teeth, maybe, if she could waddle close enough to him to take a bite.
But she has done nothing but run since this whole mess started, and it feels kind of nice to fight, even a little.