Sylas didn't seem very surprised as Cassarae walked in, slamming the door behind her. She took off the long sword by her side and drove it right through the door, half as a veiled threat to Sylas and another half as what seemed like a protective measure.
A rippling barrier of blue and red formed from her sword and enveloped the room completely.
Then, as though she hadn't just impaled a door, she turned to where Sylas was sitting on the edge of his bed, took a step, then slammed a foot down between his legs, barely a centimeter or two from a particularly vulnerable place.
She looked down at Sylas, almost growling, her discontent and dissatisfaction radiating in waves. It looked like she had truly reached her boiling point, and she wasn't going to calm anytime soon.
"You lasted all of two days after sticking your tongue down my throat. How chivalrous of you, fucking asshole. What? Did your dick go limp again?"
