Arguing with Helena usually ended in the same things: her pinning you down, her hand on your mouth.

This time, after you decided to run your mouth longer than usual, Helena got an idea. She folded her arms against her chest, legs spread apart as she leant back in her seat, staring up at you as you ranted while aggressively pacing the room.

When you stopped talking, Helena’s eyes hardened in a look that could easily belong to a siren. “Put your mouth somewhere useful rather than arguing.”