Gavin sidestepped, avoiding her attack with uncanny talent. Yelling a curse, she tumbled forwards, nearly landing on her own blade. Gavin rolled his eyes, letting his blade slide from its hiding spot inside his sleeve. He flicked it over in his hand, stepping forwards and pressing the tip to her throat as she pushed herself up.

“You’d do well to plan your attacks better,” Gavin said blatantly.

“Shut up, old man,” his daughter hissed back.

Gavin remained unamused as he drew his knife back to him. “Old man,” he scoffed. “Please.”

Arayia got to her feet, glaring at her father briefly before giving a frustrated sigh and stomping off. Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, watching her leave.

“I’m not old,” Gavin hissed quietly to himself.