Jeffrey's memories show Myitt where his knives are and exactly how to use them to slit someone's throat and kill them within two minutes, as long as the person does not move to counter. <<They always say, 'Don't bring a knife to a gun fight,' but nobody gets that knives are faster, and waaaay more unpredictable. Nobody expects you to pull a knife when you're right in front of 'em, just like nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!>> Jeffrey giggles. He almost couldn't wait to see what would happen, to have his finger right on the pulse of the end of an ugly feud between space drifters.
<<End this. With this, they'll never kill anyone else's friend again. No one else has to die.>>
It was as if Mind Melter were, indeed, offering his hand so that Myitt could jump to his side between two buildings, his lips curled into a twisted smile and his body poised to strike, underneath a glimmering gold masquerade mask and flamboyant purple clothes. Void tries to turn away, but as always, he can't. The potential for bloodshed is too enticing to him.
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"I guess I'm a fairly popular bounty hunter in certain circles," says Keshin, adjusting his stance in his chair. He gives and Dalik William another look of appraisal, as if trying to figure out where Dalik is going with this. It isn't often that someone compliments the skill of a turelek. "And we have been at this for at least four or five years, and still aren't dead. You pick up a few things."
Keshin frowns at Myitt. "...wait. Is something wrong with that host? He does look a little strange, doesn't he?"
