'Very well?! What the hell is that supposed to mean?' Finn thought, anxiety creeping back in like a bad rash.
The maid calmly drew her arm back and flipped the knife in a clean, practiced motion—blade now pointed inward. She raised it above her, then let it drop. The knife slipped neatly into her sleeve with a soft click, as if it slid into a hidden holster.
'Wait, that's where she keeps them?!' Finn stared, stunned. 'No… no way. She threw like ten of those at us. Where the hell is she hiding the rest?! Her skirt? Her socks? Her eyelids?!' She really was one of those silent killer maid types you only saw in movies or anime. Probably had a whole armory tucked into her bloomers.
"So… so… you're letting us live?" Finn asked carefully, like a child begging for a fifth scoop of ice cream when he already had four.
