He growled and went back to work on the ropes, trying desperately to find the end rope, to loosen them on his own in case she refused. She was smart about it. Knew where to tie the knot so he couldn't reach. This wasn't her first hostage situation. 
When she agreed to cut his ankles free on the condition he not move, he flopped backward, his head hitting the ground, his arms folded over his face in a silent promise not to move. 

The moment he felt them loosen, he shifted his arms, peering at her to see that she'd move away, and he swung himself forward. Tucking his feet, swinging his arms, he rose, standing upright. He was tall, though not overbearing as he leered at her. She demanded answers of him with [i]her[/i] voice, looked at him with [i]her[/i] face.
"You can go fuck yourself." He spat quietly. "And get the hell out of my city."
He turned, but hesitated, turning to glance at her from over his shoulder. "Find cover for warmth. Save your fires for daylight. If you bring them back you're on your own."

And he vanished.