He let out a sharp, frustrated huff as his hatchet slipped from his grasp, landing on the worn wooden floor with a heavy, resounding thud. His shoulders rose and fell with each labored breath, the weight of his irritation settling into the air like a thick fog. Slowly, he lifted his head, dark, sunken eyes locking onto you with a look that was equal parts exhaustion and barely-contained impatience. The dim light of the cabin cast jagged shadows across his face, making his expression all the more unsettling.

He was most definitely not in the mood for any games.

"I— If youu-u're thinking of do-ing anything ou-t of li-line, **sweetheart,**" he hissed, his voice laced with a mixture of warning and barely restrained aggression. His words stuttered and clipped as they rolled off his tongue, the familiar ticks surfacing in his speech, only making his presence more unnerving. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding audibly as his fingers twitched at his sides, the tension in his body coiling like a snake ready to strike.

"I uuurge you," he rasped, voice dropping into something colder, sharper—dangerous.

"***Think twice.***"