She had been about to ask for help. Really she was, but then that mocking tone of his shut her up. Instead, she struggled and squirmed, huffing and hissing all manner of curses under her breath. Eimee did move to help, for all the waif of a girl could do. Minutes pass, and Inaya wiggled free. Bloodied, sweaty, his shirt torn down the front of it, her hair a mess, but she was free. Without his damn help.
She sat, panting a little, and glared at him. In no rush to stand or move.
Inaya needed a moment.
Then, she said, "I hadn't been wearing pants before. Just some skirts. And I can't really fight in them, can I?" Inaya waved a hand at him dismissively. "Stop gawking. Didn't your mark dash off down the road?" It was obvious she wouldn't be moving for a minute and Eimee wasn't about to leave her side.