True, she’s hardly got the bite of the spitfires itching to kill him within minutes of meeting, but he never underestimates girls, to say nothing of women. He’s heard enough lithe teenagers with charms on their backpacks call for his blood to know better. Women who wouldn’t die until he said she‘d won, even with his sword stuck right through her, his edge of his sword grip flush with her gut. And Speed Buster would have killed him if he hesitated for an old woman, right?

Misty says she fights, even if she isn’t a regular. That’s enough.

“I think if you had any bloodlust in you, you’d be good at it,” he says. Thirst is a good motivator. “And nah, there’s usually a mood. You walk into a place, you lock eyes, you exchange a few words, but you already know someone’s getting powerwashed off the concrete within hours. Some wardens here, they don’t get that. They decide you’re a time bomb they gotta diffuse.”