Daenerys stared at the warrior and immediately whirled into an offensive guard position with her scimitar, holding it in the iron grip that her Drogo had taught her. She brought it to within a hair of the strange looking scarred man's head and hissed angrily, not caring that the dervish movements of her lithe dancer's body were making for some very interesting bouncing of her naked chest. If anything it seemed most times fighting nude was advantageous. For men it was always a thrill to see how scared and timid the sheep were fleeing before her naked Khal when he stormed in wearing only sword and horse. For her it just seemed to distract the hell out of her opponents, unsure as they were of what to do with the beautiful, sensuous creature approaching. They usually found out shortly later that, "stand and gawk at the nice blonde's tits" was probably the wrong idea, usually shortly before their heads hit the sand floor.
So, like she'd learned from her proud lover, she howled and then stood proudly, blade locked close to the scar-face's chest, daring him to make the wrong move. It was obvious to her what a coward she faced and what little a threat this man was. His hair looked shorn, and recently, within a few years for sure. and that horrid scar marring one half of his face. To lose, and to not even be given the honor of death, but instead of disfigurement... And to accept it so meekly as to just chop off your braid and walk away... Such was a man who her Drogo would have destroyed in seconds. Would he simply bow before her obvious might?