Re: Second level - edges of the dance floor
He brought a gloved hand to his neck in surprise, having felt the brief sting of the blade nicking his flesh. It was a laughably minor injury and barely worth worrying about, fortunately, but what bothered him above all else was that he'd allowed it to happen in the first place. Warnings of caution rang in his ears and he began to realize that perhaps there had been something to them before stubbornly quashing such thoughts. She was only a woman, after all. Nothing he was incapable of handling himself.
"Never," he said derisively, bristling at her smile and they way she tucked his blade into her belt. She certainly seemed intent on testing his refusal to harm a woman. He barely had time to consider how he was to retrieve his blade before her hands were twisted in his shirt, and attempting to get him on the ground was the last thing his patience could tolerate. His mind flashed to his remaining knife and he reached for it, intending to plunge the blade into her and quickly make his escape. Within the same moment, just as his fingers closed around the hilt, he realized what he was about to do and recoiled internally, horrified at himself. Through sheer will he forced himself to leave the knife, tensing in resistance to her efforts instead before throwing his weight forward into a shove.
All he wanted was for her to let him go so he could leave, lest he do something he knew he would regret.