The leader's eyes shifted to Sigora, and his expression changed, becoming leering and inappropriate, stripping her with his gaze in a way that made Jorghan's hands clench into fists.
"And who's this? Your bodyguard, human? Or maybe something else?" He looked Sigora up and down with exaggerated slowness.
"That's a lot of women you've got there. Tell me, how does a little thing like you even—"
"Careful," Sigora interrupted, her voice dropping to something cold and dangerous.
"You're very close to saying something you'll regret."
"Regret?" The leader laughed.
"What's an eight-foot elf woman going to do? Sit on me? Though with a figure like that, I might not mind—"
Under normal circumstances, Sigora would have handled this decisively. One quick strike to the jaw, maybe a follow-up to ensure the lesson stuck, then walk away, leaving the fool to nurse his wounds and damaged pride.
But these weren't normal circumstances.
