Her nostrils flare, but there's a pride in it. The rage curls, the anger bites, and yet. Yet she can't help it. It bubbles, it bites, it curls, and then it explodes-- the need to laugh. It's high-pitched, ungraceful, hyena-like, leaving her convulsing slightly in the process.

And when it passes, she looks up at him, the look of intensity changing slightly. "You lose." It's a game, isn't it? A game of power. And she considers this a win.

It's something to give her meaning in this moment.

"A fair way to lose, even. Jokes and all." There's a smug curl to her voice, as the urge to cry creeps in again. But she won't. She's not going to. Even as she shakes a little. The silence is dead now.