No Noble Arms? Bullshit. That and her two partners were underclassmen that looked like they'd just taken speed and were likely to be entirely useless. Nishka's keen eyes made an observation of the quadrangle before the whistle blew, noticing several objects that she could use if she got into dire straights. Not that she expected to be caught, few people were faster than an angry store owner, and fewer still faster than those that outran them. Of course these weren't crowded city streets, but the concept was much the same. Not too much to her surprise she was immediately targeted by- white knight? Weird.
Still, she doubted someone like him could catch someone like her. His slow approach indicated that he was expecting feints or jukes, meaning his reaction time would be slowed to an outright response and he would be hyper responsive to feints. Which meant that a fake feint was the best response. Not that any of this really went through Nishka's mind as conscious thought. It was more of a split-second awareness of the best course of action to take, born out of years of necessity reading a situation in less than a moment. So Nishka made eye contact with Pablo, stepped to the right, pivoted to face left as though she were going to run in that direction: leaning forward to support that idea, but instead with her weight on pivoting foot, pushed herself in the opposite of the direction, turning midstep and running to the right with urchin quickness. She silently noted the presence of the purple-eyed boy standing remarkably still, simply tagging those foolish enough to ignore him, not a mistake she would make.
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Old Amsterdam
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