Prowess

I shifted uncomfortably.  My knees had grown weary of crouching, and my fingers sought the dagger I usually carry in my soft-soled boot.  The skinny white man was proving to have surprisingly, and annoyingly, more stamina than I had expected and I had grown tired of waiting.  I was about to rise and slip into the next room and put the two to rest myself when a hand clapped on my shoulder, making my every muscle leap.  Before my lethal survival instincts whipped the dagger into the wrist (and then throat) of the person behind me, a husky whisper brushed my ear.

“If you kill them, won’t somebody wonder how they flew to Hollywood?”