There's a brief grunt as the blade slashes her hand, but she stays still.

Until his last words.

The stone of her expression becomes, for an instant, an erupting volcano.

There's a final glint and slice. A second cut, slightly deeper than the first, on the other side of his face. The scarred side.

And the mask, driven by the slash, soars up, somersaulting.

Again sheathing her blade, the OS says, with a deadly calm, "Recall the sex of this duel's victor. You are nothing compared to the Mac girls, my true enemies." As she turns bck towards the bar, she adds, "I recommend you hold your tongue about others- it is a shame to have your soul reflect your face's appearance."

And she walks away.