"Truce?" With a groan, Remy collapsed backwards. One of his eyes was closed against the blood running down his face. The good eye he rolled back to see where she'd landed. At this point, he didn't care if she were only faking. He wasn't moving.
"Saints preserve us from fou femmes. I'm t'one bleeding t'death and she calls a truce."
Speaking of which, he touched a hand to the blade embedded in his abdomen and hissed in pain. He was bleeding out, alright. If he were lucky, she hadn't severed anything vital - but that wasn't going to account for the blood loss.