There was a whistling noise in the large tent, followed by a dull thud. A sturdy dagger had opted to bury itself into one of the wooden poles in the tent after just skimming Malcom's face, quivering in the wood. The thrower stomped inside sulkily, carrying two travelling backpacks, one on each arm. The feat itself was rather impressive due to the hinderance of the heavy backpacks, but judging by the way Blaire was holding them, one wouldn't think they were heavy at all. another knife rested in her free hand ominously.

"I throw knives, he shoots bullets." she reported, dumping Malcom's bag beside him. "[i]Silver[/i] bullets. Bloody cheeky, it is. Dangerous too." she added, retrieving her throwing knife from the wood. "Sorry about the pole, missy. Didnae mean to leave a mark, but the only other two targets weren't gonna like it if I demonstrated on them."

Blaire tossed her own bag at Malcom's feet as well, clearly expecting him to do the lifting from now on. She leant on the wooden pole that she recently stabbed, her mess of red curls partially obscuring her face, but not obscuring enough to hide the playful little grin on her features. "Blaire McKennen, miss. Pleased t'meetcha."