A low growl rumbled from the depths of Corine's belly as she was thrust toward one of the men and made to bend toward the table. She watched as the fingers of her left hand were splayed out before them in abject horror as her gaze lifted not toward Magnus, but the onlookers. The men and women she'd spent time working among. The former courtesan shouldn't have been surprised. She'd seen far worse done, especially back home. Her eyes widened, crystal blue gaze seemingly pleading, and was met with the awestruck silence that only fear could employ.

When she was certain no one would come to her rescue, when she was certain that no one was going to interrupt what was about to occur, she swallowed hard. If there was one thing Corine wasn't, it wasn't complacent. She dipped downward, mouth opening as she sought to sink her teeth into the arm of her captor, hard. Simultaneously, the woman jerked her hand back and twisted, fingers of her other hand curling into a tight fist which she brought around toward the man's face before she spat at Magnus. If no one would rescue her, she'd have to do it herself, and she was okay with that. She was also okay with the potential consequences, because to have fought and lost was better than to have not done so at all.

"I don't think you understand the definition of fair," she hissed, and there was an untamed wildness in her stare. "I propose this, instead. I leave, in my underwear, unmaimed. If I survive the cold, I survive it. If I don't, well... that was my fool's choice, wasn't it?"