He supposed that he admired her will, the strength of her vindication to remove herself from a situation in which she had existed for likely most of her life. How she had come to be part of the Red Room training program was never explained to him, and he found most of the candidates never survived long enough for it to make a difference. She was different. For a moment, he almost believed her, but experience and recalling pain seasoned him with experience of how unlikely that was. Her attempts would instead hurt her, be used to break her down in a new way.

His fingers reached up to scratch at the fur around her cheeks, and he hummed in response. Had there been a time when he thought he would be free? He couldn't recall. He knew he had fought sometimes because he had the scars to prove it, but the story behind each one was gone. "And when they hurt you for talk and action like that, carry the scars with pride. Even minor resistances are still putting them back on their heels." But he expected no more than that.

He huffed softly at her declaration. "Which means you enjoyed my other form better," he said with a faint smirk on his lips. He reached up to take her wiggling paw, bringing it to his lips for a kiss in a very gentlemanly way before he nipped sharply at her toes. Then he was scratching her back, working his fingers into her thick coat and rubbing vigorously as if finding every itch she could ever have. To have access to the fullness of her back, he rolled up onto his knees and worked, giving her the kind of massage that bridged the gap of pleasure to pain at times.

"You are the most beautiful, and your beauty will only grow with your size and mane," he whispered at her, aware her keen hearing could pick it up. "Such a sensational creature you are."