[B]Gratia Mindaro[/b]

"Ninety-five percent certain?"

There were many things one could say about Gratia Mindaro. Most were not particularly good things. That was a given, of course; the Mistralese girl was an existence that ran entirely counter to all that was good and holy. She was arrogant, immensely so, with an ego that could blot out the sun. Her words were rude and abrasive to nearly everyone, filled with a vulgarity beyond the norm. Beneath that stoic, formal exterior was someone who was really just a massive bitch, and coupled with her bloodthirsty, ultraviolent tendencies, it was a wonder that anybody tolerated her presence. However, if one could note a single redeeming quality, then the obvious answer would be her loyalty.

Her loyalty to her team.

Her loyalty to her family.

Her loyalty to her friend.

In an instant, Gratia Mindaro had drawn her blade, slicing a thin line across her right palm. Blood instantly began to pool from the fresh wound, but if one were to look into the girl's eyes, there was no sign of pain. Her onyx orbs were impassive as always, and her expression remained unchanged.

"Make it a hundred percent, Schwarz."