[Sylus watches the other fighters enter the arena, each one smaller but with a certain sharpness to their movements that promises a more interesting challenge. He raises an eyebrow, half-amused, half-annoyed. The staff are determined to keep things interesting, even if it means throwing more cannon fodder his way.
He notes the poor quality of Clorinde's weapon with a slight curl of his lip. She straightens up, the blunt blade in her hand, and he meets her gaze, reading the silent message in her eyes. Nothing personal, he just understands what they're doing while putting them at any disadvantage.
Sylus shrugs an almost dismissive movement. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes, though the lack of decent weaponry annoys him. His eyes flick back to the new fighters, sizing them up.]
Finish this quickly? [Tone dry:] Do you think they plan on letting us walk away?
no subject
He notes the poor quality of Clorinde's weapon with a slight curl of his lip. She straightens up, the blunt blade in her hand, and he meets her gaze, reading the silent message in her eyes. Nothing personal, he just understands what they're doing while putting them at any disadvantage.
Sylus shrugs an almost dismissive movement. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes, though the lack of decent weaponry annoys him. His eyes flick back to the new fighters, sizing them up.]
Finish this quickly? [Tone dry:] Do you think they plan on letting us walk away?