1 Work by showerless
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“You should have just said that you want to take me alive, bushwoman. Also, fantastique, you locked us both into a position in which neither can move without getting fatally wounded by the other.”
“Wouldn't trust ya to not stab me dead when I am talking to ya.” Sniper tightened the grip on her wrist, the machete drawing more blood from her palm.
Spy grimaced slightly, as the other clearly forgot to brush her teeth this morning. Fitting for the rabid dog comparison. “My, who knew someone like you could be capable of making such an acute observation. I am truly impressed.” She didn't break eye contact as she wriggled her left arm a little, one of her concealed blades sliding out of the sleeve and into her palm.
“I'll only say this once now, snake. I am a professional, and I aim for ya bloody forehead. Makes death nice and easy. But if you want to act like a little sadist, then I'll aim for ya knees or guts and leave ya there to crawl to your doc everytime I see ya. You got all that, cunt?”
“But of course, ma amie.”