[He's as strange a fellow as he is gentlemanly, at least on the surface. The hilt presses into her hand as he holds onto it and all of her eyes track downward in mute surprise. There's something both amusing and endearing about the gesture and the payment. She's never been one to wield a weapon and blades were kept to modest knives meant for desserts.

It's the blade's little trick that has her smiling up at him once again, though this time there's something a touch more serious to the shape of it.]

What an interesting trick. You do know that nothing good comes from running towards spilled blood, don't you? Particularly in a spider's domain.