:| With the Knife's Bite |: {RoyalGhost}

Lia heard the call and narrowed her eyes at the older boy, trying not to get mad at him. She didn’t trust him already, didn’t trust his questions. If she was smart, she would have kept her mouth shut and carried on with her life, but she was already irritated enough that she didn’t want have any of it. Why is he so damn happy? Happy people meant deceptive people, at least that was what she found from personal experience. No one was ever that happy, and it made her think he was hiding something.

She bent down to grab the knives, never taking her eyes of the boy before she stood back up. “It doesn’t have a name, if that’s what you’re asking.” Did she want to divulge more information? Not really. But it didn’t seem like he was going to be walking away any time soon, and she wasn’t really up for a fight. She was irritated but not pissed off. “It’s about changing trajectories.” It was more than just changing trajectories; it was about learning how to be accurate and to respond quickly. If anything, her reflexes would be faster if she could learn how to coordinate both the movement of her arms and the strength of each arm.

But he didn’t need to know all of that. She gave him a stern look before continuing. “Why do you wanna know?”

There was something not right with this kid and Lia frowned as he kept talking. He was giggling while he was talking, and Lia didn’t know whether she should take him seriously or not. As he kept walking towards her, she tensed up and soon, each hand was holding a knife of its own. She prepared herself for a fight, because even if she didn’t want to fight, she had to protect herself from crazies like this guy. “You find this funny, don’t ya?” she asked him, taking a step back as he kept walking towards her.

I could just stab him now, she thought to herself but kept the knives by her side. It would do no good if she were to cause trouble right now; the last thing she wanted was to be in trouble with the authorities. He struck a chord when he implied that she didn’t have any skills, pushing her to challenge him even if that wasn’t his intention. “Maybe I’ll let you figure it out yourself,” she snarled out, still clearly uncomfortable with the close proximity of the boy to her. And then he asked her if she had ever killed anyone.

It threw her off. Why was he asking her that question? What was his intention in knowing? But those were not the questions she would ask. “Why does it matter to you if I’ve killed anyone?” she barked at him, hoping he would stop moving any closer to her. Her right hand adjusted its grip on the knife, preparing to defend herself from the lunatic. “You want to find out if I have any skills? Then challenge me. Looks like I have two knives anyway.”