If there was one thing Eryn had learned over the years, it was that you didn't show all your cards at the beginning of the game, especially if you weren't the bigger dog at the table. You had to play smart, think things through, wait for the right opportunities to act. Keep your secret weapons secret until you absolutely need them. Following that rule had kept her alive this long.
It's why she didn't pull out all her blades and attempt to peel the hunter like a grape.
Eryn did, however, give into the hot, unfamiliar feeling trembling in rage deep in her chest and lash out with fists and feet in wild attack as she was unceremoniously shoved forward into the cockpit. The strange sensation had arrived bright and burning the moment she'd seen Holden Tark, broken and crumpled on the floor of his own ship. She knew what it was, as much as she refused to admit it, but there was no denying it. She'd found his gaze, held it, had never looked someone in the eye that long in her life. It was…terrifying, what she saw there, what she felt there frozen in that moment, both of them knowing what was coming, both trying to say something they couldn't put into words fast enough. He looked…sorry? Determined? He had that look people got when they made oaths or promises, or so she thought when she reflected on the moment long afterwards. She'd tried to look reassuring, opened her mouth to make sure he knew she didn't need that look, didn't want it. He'd feel better knowing that, right? She didn't know. She didn't know how other people worked, she just knew how she'd feel in his shoes. "Holden, I'll—" …be okay. But the hunter fired before she could finish, and Holden's eyes closed, and Eryn's breath got stuck in her throat for a good six seconds as she was dragged away, eyes smarting.
…Because of the grip in her hair, not because she was upset. It was the grip in her hair. Hair pulling hurts. Stings. Y'know. That's why. Only reason.
Caring? It sucked. It sucked massive, hairy wampa balls.
Her punches were quick but thoughtless, seeking just to impact, not to win. Eryn's physical outburst served more than to release her confusing emotions, though. If she could make the man think she was just an angry, untrained, useless girl, maybe he'd be lax with his control methods. It would certainly help the grand escape she was planning. Or would be planning. Later, sometime. Maybe.
Kark it, plans never work, she'll do what she always does: fly by the seat of her pants and run when her feet hit the ground.