"Oh, I'm alive.", he says, walking over to her, blood running from his forehead, down around his eye and then dripping onto the floor as gravity pulled it downward. His head was hanging slightly, since he was looking down at her, and his bayonet was in his hand.
Despite the fact the blood had to be messing with the vision of his one eye, he didn't make any moves to clean it off. The barrel of the pistol was pointed in her general direction still, and it didn't look any worse for the wear. "Never...", he begins.
"Never."
He took a knee next to her, scraping the blade along her cheek. "Use me again.", he whispers.
"You're dangerously close to being an enemy."
She might notice the claws were still sticking out of his knuckles - he didn't know how to relax them. "I'm a straightforward guy. You want sex, say something. Don't manipulate me."
He took the top layer of flesh off her cheek. It would sting like a mynock bite but wouldn't make her bleed. The precision to pull that off left little doubt as to his skill with the blade. "Otherwise, my dear, you'll meet the real me. And no one's met the real me, yet. Not even me." The feral gleam to his eye and the way his gaze shifted to his hand, well, that wasn't a threat. It wasn't even a promise.
It was pure, cold fact. Truth be told, he'd not have made a half-bad Sith.
He put his weapons away and gave Ashin a glare as he stood that implied he was none too happy about her helping Anaya.