[color=red][h2]S A B L E[/h2][/color]

	[b]S[/b]able quirked his eyebrow at her quick answer. Not a moment of thought was given and—at first—it pissed him off. His gritted teeth had been a dull blade when compared to his sharp, slanted eyes. They were filled with rage that, on him at least, seemed natural and preordain. Not even a blink had softened his wrath from her, even when her blade was pointed at him. 

	[b]F[/b]ear of weapons had long been buried with him. His strength had transcended such. He knew his limitations and greatness; he knew that no singular weapon would ever bring him to his knees. Nor would some random woman who held a petty vendetta against him. 
	
	[b]H[/b]er lunge would have been met with a quick counter but the moment he had gripped her arm, the room twirled again. His motion-sickness returned with a nasty punch, causing him to grumble in pain as his legs wobbled.  When he was alone he let the pain race out and sunk to his knees. White hot claws tore at his insides but he managed to knock on the door to his room. 

	[b]M[/b]ary and Ender helped him in, their questions were like bombs on a war-torn beach. With a soft chuckle, he fixed his mask on his face and answered. [color=red] “[b]I[/b]ts nothing. J-Just a very [i]small[/i] inconvenience.”[/color]