Just as Amaya thought she was about to successful manage to slip out under that arm, it just had to go and rope her back in, didn't it? And, usually, Amaya would admire an arm possessing this kind of considerable strength, but in the current circumstances, she was just sort of regretting feeling even a little bit bad about wishing she'd had a knife.

Her poor hair. First, Seivarden's tears were eternally trapped in there in spirit, and now....that.

Amaya, a very mature human adult in her thirties, made a face of disgust that may have included a tiny blech noise, but then she tried to focus on the task at hand, as escape without notice suddenly became a less viable option.

She needed a plan B, and fast. There was definitely snuggling about to happen, and she was officially keeping a knife by her bed from here on out.

Better yet, under her pillow.