[ The needle of interesting pricks at an old uneasiness. Paul glances over his shoulder with an uncertain tilt to his mouth. It's not suspicion; there's nothing yet for him to suspect, with what he knows, but there is a whisper-light thread of intuition.
He is on the cusp of a decision about what to do with it when his eyes flash over with silvery moonlight and his head snaps to the left. There's nothing there, but Paul flows into poised anticipation in a moment, a dozen tiny alterations to his stance. The boy who had been polished the last time they sparred is one who has now been tempered, and it shows. ]
Excuse me, sensei. [ He says, apologetically. ] If you would go back to the boardwalk, and -
[ The sand to their left a dozen meters out stirs, and there's a knife in Paul's hand from somewhere, and a string of curious black bells in the other from yet somewhere else. Paul sighs, irritably. ]
no subject
He is on the cusp of a decision about what to do with it when his eyes flash over with silvery moonlight and his head snaps to the left. There's nothing there, but Paul flows into poised anticipation in a moment, a dozen tiny alterations to his stance. The boy who had been polished the last time they sparred is one who has now been tempered, and it shows. ]
Excuse me, sensei. [ He says, apologetically. ] If you would go back to the boardwalk, and -
[ The sand to their left a dozen meters out stirs, and there's a knife in Paul's hand from somewhere, and a string of curious black bells in the other from yet somewhere else. Paul sighs, irritably. ]
- wait for me there?