“Just for that I should make you wear a dress,” she threatens. Tapping a finger on her mouth, she asks, “What is it you think I’m going to ask for, you muscle-bound swordslinger?”
“…Well, how should I know? The phrase is just, generally associated with a certain context, and, even if it weren’t, I mean, you can be a little nuts… not necessarily in a sexual way, I don’t mean, I just, not that I don’t trust you…”
Very, very deliberately, she lowers her voice to a sensual purr, batting her eyelashes and reaching out to trail one hand down his bare arm. “Why, Percival, what kind of woman do you think I am? I would /never/ take advantage of you. You’ll come /willingly/.”