The Adventurous McGurn
You move towards the bar, jabbing the stool at him to keep him at arm's length.
He is laughing, clearly enjoying this.
"You have fire inside you," he chuckles. "I like that."
He licks his lips.
"Say, why don't we see if we can settle this another way?" He lowers his knife slightly, never breaking his gaze with yours. "There's a hotel just over the street there, by the bus station. What say you and I have a little slap and tickle? Have you ever been with a real man?"
"It's a tempting offer," you say, standing now next to the bar again and remove a hand from the bar stool in your grip. "What have you got for me?"
"Oh, cheeky lady, I've got what you want alright!" He cups his groin and makes lewd gestures, his tongue sticking out. "Think you can handle a real man's sword?"
"Can you handle this?" you ask, your free hand now holding a glass bottle. You throw it at his head, and it shatters, leaving him screaming as tiny glass shards lacerate his eyes.
"You b..." he tries to scream but, already, you have closed the space between you and wrench the knife from his grip. You kick him in the knee and he falls to the floor, one hand on his bleeding face and one hand grabbing your waist. "I'll kill you!"
"Not today, old man," you say quietly, plunging the knife down and into his torso. Once, twice, three times.
You know where to strike, you know how much pressure to apply, and you know exactly what organs are now hemorrhaging.
His death will be slow and painful and exactly what he deserves.
You move back, taking a bar towel from behind you, and wipe your hands.
Stepping over the mercenary's dying body, you head towards the doors and towards home.
He is laughing, clearly enjoying this.
"You have fire inside you," he chuckles. "I like that."
He licks his lips.
"Say, why don't we see if we can settle this another way?" He lowers his knife slightly, never breaking his gaze with yours. "There's a hotel just over the street there, by the bus station. What say you and I have a little slap and tickle? Have you ever been with a real man?"
"It's a tempting offer," you say, standing now next to the bar again and remove a hand from the bar stool in your grip. "What have you got for me?"
"Oh, cheeky lady, I've got what you want alright!" He cups his groin and makes lewd gestures, his tongue sticking out. "Think you can handle a real man's sword?"
"Can you handle this?" you ask, your free hand now holding a glass bottle. You throw it at his head, and it shatters, leaving him screaming as tiny glass shards lacerate his eyes.
"You b..." he tries to scream but, already, you have closed the space between you and wrench the knife from his grip. You kick him in the knee and he falls to the floor, one hand on his bleeding face and one hand grabbing your waist. "I'll kill you!"
"Not today, old man," you say quietly, plunging the knife down and into his torso. Once, twice, three times.
You know where to strike, you know how much pressure to apply, and you know exactly what organs are now hemorrhaging.
His death will be slow and painful and exactly what he deserves.
You move back, taking a bar towel from behind you, and wipe your hands.
Stepping over the mercenary's dying body, you head towards the doors and towards home.