Mouth twisting with distaste, Nicholas leans across his own leg as it continues to grind viciously into the injured wing, draping his undamaged arm over his knee in a display of callous, deliberate unconcern.

"I'd do as she says," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I may - " he stresses the threat with an abrupt increase of foot pressure, " - be forced - " and he brings his face nearer to the thrashing man beneath him, teeth bared in a snarl, " - to be more creative."