He lets it soothe him --tries to, anyway. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath, doing his best to bite back the rage. Rage that wants to explode somewhere. Luckily he's practiced at this. Although if the house were furnished, something would be getting trashed by now.

Instead his hands clasp around her wrists, bringing them down from his shoulders. His grip is a little firmer than it should be.

But he drops them. "Fine." It comes out in a rushed, sigh of an exclamation. Although it bears noting he'll still hold to his previous statement if he gets a chance. Hasibe may be planning on wrecking Sandor's life but Mitchell is going to make sure he goes out with a whimper.

"Fine." The second time it's more steady. The anger is still there, though. It's always there but right now it's more present than ever.