The disquieting smile widened as D'Angelo easily deflected his kick; the palm strike to his ankle sent a small lance of pain up his leg and a shiver of anticipation up his spine.  However, the smile fell for a moment as the assassin dropped his shadowy facade and began to circle, replaced by a flash of annoyance.  Jahar straightened out of his own stance, the khopesh dropping to point at an angle toward the ground, held only in his right hand.  He had been uncertain what to expect from this day, but D'Angelo's behavior somewhat surprised him.  Most assassins did not particularly care why their employers chose their targets.  Jahar certainly didn't; one kill was generally no better or worse than another with few exceptions.  One way or another, Jahar hadn't come here to explain himself.  He wanted Nicoli's full attention on the fight.

"Are you paid to question your targets then, assassin?"  The killer's voice was still flat, though tinged with both displeasure and a slight mocking tone.  "Or perhaps it is that the Veiled-Ones have a habit of investigating the motives of their employers."  He turned slowly in place, following the movements of his circling opponent; the only indication that he was not nearly as unready as he appeared was the way he moved, weight shifted to the balls of his feet.  As he turned, his empty left hand slid into the pouch hanging above his left hip sheathe, the source of one of the magical auras Nicoli had seen earlier, and grasped his Tekko-kagi, the brace of claws settling comfortably around his hand.

"I will warn you once more not to disappoint me."  Jahar growled as he slid his right foot back and out, widening his stance and resuming his two handed grip on his large sword, the claw doing little to hinder him.  After a moment it would be clear he was assuming the same stance Nicoli had used earlier, the Iron Gate, though whether in mockery or for utility it would be difficult to tell.  "You have a contract and a target, so do what you were paid to do."