[As much as this is a tense situation, a part of Steinbeck relaxes, even as, wide-eyed, he watches the pink...thing hit the wood, sparking like a torn wire. This man could have attacked him already if he wanted to. It still feels dangerous, but not necessarily as much of a threat as it looked like, right off the bat.]
[His eyebrows furrow, trying to understand - like a knife thrower, he thinks, but its not any knife he's ever seen.]
Huh. Nice ability you have. [He's sincere about that.] What is it, exactly?
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[His eyebrows furrow, trying to understand - like a knife thrower, he thinks, but its not any knife he's ever seen.]
Huh. Nice ability you have. [He's sincere about that.] What is it, exactly?