He watched as one fell to the strange blonde woman and he lamented how inconvenient mortals could be. But he was not called Jack-Be-Lucky without reason. And so both his eyes glistened, though one was hidden behind an eyepatch. The sword he carried was an old, notched thing. But he didn't need it to be sharp to kill.

"You know what I love about this place?" he said as he began to circle her. "Everyone is always fucking. Or they're fighting. It's a shame we're doing the latter, little lady."

He lunged at her to attack.