Apparently simply waiting for Jericho to compose themselves, Kite ignored the initial line of questioning. Whether he had no answer for 'when' the man asked he was, or there was no answer to give, the mask offered no tell. Violet seemed intent on offering introductions, as Kite turned his head back the way they came, cautiously. Truthfully, the joke was in the irony of the question that Kite found silly as the answer was a flat 'yes'. [i]When[/i], indeed, they were, now.
Their attention was drawn back as Violet extended a hand, daintily, to Jericho, and her Kite found themselves crossing their arms. Dejection abroad, he seethed from the willing expression she offered where before it had taken considerable effort to earn such attention from her. [color=8882be]"Hhrrmph...muh-mehmeh hrf mah moorrr..."[/color] they grumbled, not at all understanding the subtleties of Violet's attempt to manipulate the man through charm, seeing it as some kind of 'human favoritism', instead.

Further confusion in her behavior was added as she produced a dagger and explaining her capacity on her capabilities before paying Kite a compliment.
He would...disagree, though. His performance against the other Kite was shoddy and feeble as, if Violet could remember the details of the engagement correctly...he [i]lost[/i].
The only reason she was still alive was because he cheated and blatantly murdered his kinsman in cold blood fueled by a conspiracy for betrayal. There was nothing 'adept' about the one-sided fight, and Kite bitterly resented her interpretation of events. However, he had no means or will to oppose her praise. The reflection on his actions though, now that he too was forced to play by The New Rule and was forced to carry the burden, made him feel small...all things considered.

They discussed payment, an unexpected detail Kite had not considered when picking Jericho. Trinkets and flecks of local precious metals stamped with the faces of local mortals. For a moment, Kite had forgotten he was dealing with humans and had hoped their service could be unquestioning, given the scope of...oh.
It then occurred to Violet's Kite that he was literally unable to explain the pointlessness of material currency compared to the value of [i]every single second the two wasted[/i] showing eachother their knives. Frankly, it was a miracle they were not already beset by the castle's guards in short order, likely since the IS of their surroundings were being rewritten and simply was unable to grapple with the jarring upset to natural order. They had already dealt a terrifying blow to Kazzok who was no doubt reeling from having their IS forced down a fine needle-thin funnel called 'time'.

Kite had difficulty understanding it, himself, as he was no longer able to perceive quite the way he had, before. What he was quickly coming to terms with was a demand that they all be knife-buddies and introduce themselves. They were at a tiny disadvantage, not [i]actually[/i] being armed with physical weapons aside from their fists, though Violet's interior, simplified assessment at least gave him somewhere to start. Maybe not with a fist, but something the two could understand.
Lifting a finger as if requesting a moment, they lowered the hand with the palm open.

[color=gray]The knife was keen and honed, waved in design to cut messily.
There was no knife.
Its guard was curved. It was a fork. A trident.
It did not remain hovering after he lowered his hand, as it was not there.
It was heavy. Heavier than any single object. It was not capable of being lifted.
...because it did not exist.
There was no knife.[/color]

Kite turned his hand to the side as it rested beside him, and eyes could follow and watch as [i]nothing[/i] put a 2-inch wide hole in the cobblestone at their feet, the stone around the deep impact splitting. [color=8882be]"Yes..."[/color] they softly answered, not even glancing at what they'd done.
They [i]would[/i] very much like to 'speak up'.