Robbed of even the smallest flinch, Galad deflated a bit with a huffing sigh. "Slipped," he answered, stalking towards Tanek.
Galad sized the boy up, seeing that he was just as awkward and unprepared as the elf had expected. No, he corrected himself, even worse than expected. Tanek looked delightfully ridiculous, like a clown taking a Richard Simmons workout class. This was going to be a joke bordering on a waste of time. Humans. Perhaps it could still be salvaged.
Gripping the hilt of the knife, Galad jerked down and easily pulled it from the door, twirling the blade in his hand. He scrutinized Tanek more closely.