"You're joking with me, right? You, want to fight me? I'd be too worried about you breaking a hip or something. Are you sure you thought this through old man? Sure it's not to dementia setting in?"
Fox let out a slow breath that curled and condensated in the air as the arrogant, slick haired younger man let out a relentless barrage of insults. The incessant prattling fell on deaf ears as Fox steadied himself, toning everything out except for the cocky little prick standing in front of him.
His feet slid apart, his waist lowering as he sunk into a traditional fighting pose, with his sword held in both hands before him.
"Tell you what old timer, At least you got good taste in steel. Why don't you just hand it over and we'll see if our gracious saviour will have pity on you, how's that sound?"
"Come and take it."
