"Stand," Lae'zel commands, her gaze firm but tinged with a primal lust you've not seen so plainly in her before. "We fight. I will test you in battle."

She stands there poised, ready to woo you the way her people have been raised to. With blood and bruises and bites and scrapes. The Githyanki are nothing if not violently affectionate. Or perhaps affectionately violent. This is no declaration of war but an admitance of attraction, of love. A mating ritual so unequivocally Gith that it makes your head spin, but in a good way.

You know that if you win, she will be yours. But if Lae'zel wins, you will be hers and only hers.