Ibakha's left hand had been waiting at chest level for such a strike, and she slapped the pommel away, the twist of her body -- left side forward -- allowing the deflection without too much strength necessitated. Down she pushed, aiming for the hand and its weapon to go wide as she stayed close ...

Silence was the reward for Fayane's words. Ibakha had taken advantage of that momentary weakness gained by the default of her sole job -- protection -- and now they engaged as equals. Even footing, at the least.

Tables and chairs were noted, as she slid after Fay, as were people moving either to ...

Reaction was a tricky thing. Ibakha had been cocky, had been mellow in the way she usually was on a slow job that stank of desperation and poor planning and too little in the way of excitement. She'd pegged Fayane as a possible danger. It was all shit.

The movement was fast, too fast to register ...

Fayane hadn't sat. Ibakha was not the sort to blithely do others' bidding, not even if the order came from her present purse. "A moment if you will; if you are to be my guest I will ensure adequate service." Ibakha moved towards the bar, loosening her sash as she did so and the knife in easiest ...

The woman had given in easily enough, true, but Ibakha didn't like the idea of a person so strange in appearance just happening to come into the bar so shortly after her current squeeze had. But despite the irritation and the wariness she kept her face pleasant, neutral. She was good at that, at the ...

Obvious, indeed. "Oh, I'm not to say where someone should or shouldn't be going. I'm not around here, myself. Would you like an escort? I'd planned on waiting outside, but the heat of the sun. . ." Ibakha started fanning herself. It helped that there was sweat on her face: the heat really was ...

"You," said Ibakha, "aren't from around here." The tone was casual, her hands left idle at her sides. She was watching Fayane, had watched her in the walking up to the place, what items and clothing were visible on her person. A lot could be gleaned from a person's gait and dress.

Ibakha was casual ...

The sun was withering. Not unusual, it was that time of year, but when you were trussed up tight in leathers with your weapons strapped on and a leather band wrapped tight 'round your forehead, it was bound to bring a sense of disgruntlement. And Ibakha, formerly of the mostly scattered Dayir Clan ...