((My bad, gang. But I posted, so we're good.))
Gavin swore under his breath. His blasters, as good as they were, had just simply absorbed into Evie’s armor. So, it seemed that blasters would do him no good after all. He holstered his blaster and took out his vibroknife. He was no good at close-quarters combat, and she clearly knew what she was doing. If he attacked her, she probably wouldn’t kill him, simply because she had taken all the effort into bringing him here. But, then again, she was clearly crazy, and he knew very well that one should never tempt crazy in a fight. Regardless, she was going to make him bleed. That much was obvious. The least he could do is at least try and put up a legitimate fight.
So, he exhaled and focused, preparing himself. Unfortunately, his concentration made him outwardly unaware of his surroundings for the time, and he forgot about potential traps. Or moving suits of armor. Before he knew it, his head was being clutched by a cold metal hand, to which Gavin flinched with surprise. More instinctively than consciously, Gavin’s grip on his knife became taut and he flailed his hand up, trying to swipe through the armor and cut off the hand that hand him so solidly.
Gavin swore under his breath. His blasters, as good as they were, had just simply absorbed into Evie’s armor. So, it seemed that blasters would do him no good after all. He holstered his blaster and took out his vibroknife. He was no good at close-quarters combat, and she clearly knew what she was doing. If he attacked her, she probably wouldn’t kill him, simply because she had taken all the effort into bringing him here. But, then again, she was clearly crazy, and he knew very well that one should never tempt crazy in a fight. Regardless, she was going to make him bleed. That much was obvious. The least he could do is at least try and put up a legitimate fight.
So, he exhaled and focused, preparing himself. Unfortunately, his concentration made him outwardly unaware of his surroundings for the time, and he forgot about potential traps. Or moving suits of armor. Before he knew it, his head was being clutched by a cold metal hand, to which Gavin flinched with surprise. More instinctively than consciously, Gavin’s grip on his knife became taut and he flailed his hand up, trying to swipe through the armor and cut off the hand that hand him so solidly.