"Aye," he mocked. "Must be that way." The Scot's were not as innocent as they saw themselves and the English surely were nowhere near innocent. Both sides had raped and pillaged for different causes, and the sides within the sides splintered down until one person stood off against one person. Byron cared little for the politics of it all, he merely spoke of it to keep that burning gaze of controlled anger pointed at him.
"The knife is for fun." Byron hummed with satisfaction as the Scot pushed the blade in. "Not intimidation, love." Twisting the blade to allow the blood to flow freely before it would start to heal, fingers moved down the handle to dip into the ruby liquid spreading from the wound. Byron nearly had time to taste it before Duncan pulled his head back.
Byron chuckled, placing the blood tipped fingers into his mouth and grinning. "And not allow a darling savage to get his knickers in a twist over a little fight? You are far more appetising when you're angry, love."