He was an ordinary man, no further explanation could or would persevere beyond this profound observation.
Like most men, Connor was like this man and grasped only that a woman was dangerous, and nothing else.
The numbers of them was insubstantial.
Most men could only handle one or two; albeit they probably are his mother, sister or daughter, and to be honest this is not in a physical contest.
Connor sat with his hands in his lap, waiting for the ten women to settle in their respective seats, casually assessing that some of them were nobility, he sat a little straighter in his seat as they filled the room.
The miasma of their collective perfumes was fatally attractive, alluringly so, and Connor’s sharpened senses critiqued only the matter of quantity.
Objecting to nothing, his will resolved; Connor pragmatically conceived how he may teach these ten women to kill, as he rose from his seat they focused their undivided attention on him.
One woman giggled behind a hand, chirping something practised; distinct criticism, Connor was flattered.
It wouldn’t be hard rousing volunteers in such an audience, they were probably menstruating and ready to kill him if he so much as breathed incorrectly.
Knowing full well the destructive power of women, he had; in advance, prepared something for them to enjoy, lemon squares baked freshly.
To appease their sensibilities, none of them seemed particularly offended, only some of them partook of the tea which was administered from a kettle that boiled almost immediately.
Things were going well, at least Connor thought so.
They seemed impatient, which was certainly a sign of diligence, Connor leaned back into his chair and smiled.
“Ladies, there has been some blasphemous assuaging in the form of misogyny to bring us to this…”
He had been tied to that chair, flimsy rope with knots that weren’t tied with any real intent, he didn’t let them know this as he stepped away from the repressed headache he was getting trying to remember how he had gotten an invitation here.
Their raised eyebrows were not particularly unflattering, at least he was still dressed.

A Lieutenant in the rogue group; Eclipse Ravens, Connor was well aware of the rumours being spread, by a malignant few that had never been poisoned.
Perhaps the women had gotten wind of it, they hear everything eventually.
Unless you think it.
But even then Connor erred on the side of caution if ever, thinking was dangerous business and it only stressed him to wonder why ten women had cornered him.
“And how would you kill a man, Mr. Raven?”
The woman’s voice was heavily accentuated and incredibly patronising.
Connor second guessed himself and was slightly offended by the question - as he was a man, and didn’t feel like being killed today.
The ridicule he received from expression alone was derivative, and incredibly inspiring.
They flawlessly mocked his aloof lack of concern, some of them were expressively deceived by his lack lustre countenance and were at least exhibiting patience and restraint.