The boy didn't hesitate. He stepped forward with an easy confidence, his boots echoing faintly against the ground as he came to stand in front of her.
A smug smile rested on his face, one that suggested he had already imagined how this would end, and that imagination clearly favored him.
He rolled his shoulders once, loosening up, clearly enjoying the attention now fixed entirely on him.
In his hands were a pair of daggers, short and well-balanced, their edges catching the light as he shifted his grip.
He began to swing them casually, flipping them with fluid motion.
With each rotation, the smug smirk on his face grew wider, as if he wanted everyone watching to understand just how comfortable he was with his weapons, how confident he felt stepping into this moment.
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him.
Her hand moved to her waist, fingers closing around the hilt of a thin sword resting in its sheath.
