She had sheathed her weapon. She had been withdrawing. Talking about hissing like a cat and knocking her on her back and climbing on top of her doesn't quite put her at ease. It's spiteful what he does. A jab at her that he didn't need to make. It does nothing to quiet that rage in her. It only adds fuel to the fire.
Looking up at him now she can see red lipstick pressed into the hairs of his whiskers. It's something she hasn't been able to escape since she got here. Women, children, women in heels in the dirt, women in make-up, women draped over these leather wrapped fella's. She knows what it is and truthfully live and let live but she ain't gonna be underestimated. No way. She's too prideful to glide under the radar - pretending.
It all stinks of misogyny. She gets it. She's been around men like this all her life but she aint never rested on her laurels. She's never wanted anyone to take care of her. She's always proving herself. Life is a competition. "I was done. Now I aint. You gonna hold me down? Beat me bloody? or are you gonna let me up and fight me fair?"