Re: The Deck, at the Bridge
He stopped as the reached the Bridge, with its gleaming bronze and total silence. The voices seemed quieter and he couldn't smell any food. This was a little disappointing, and successfully distracted him from the bizarre skull on her skin.
Tarzan gave the inky woman a bland, unapologetic stare once she brought her eyes back up from his groin. It wasn't in his nature to be at all ashamed, and modesty was a foreign concept that rarely troubled him even when he was not Being Tarzan. He shrugged, perhaps more Ape-like than his scowl or his gait. "Scars good then. Show you fought hard battle and win."
At the suggestion that she might need a knife, he missed her meaning entirely in the translation. Not paying the slightest attention to what he was doing, he reached back behind him and pulled out the wicked knife once more. He reversed it and caught it by the blade where it widened into the wrapped hilt. He offered it over to her without bothering to see what she planned on doing with it.
"Where food?" he said, displeased with the sight of the empty bridge. Frightening ambience had no meaning to Tarzan.