Awoken from my sleep by the scuff of a leather sole upon the stone floor, I groggily peered through my eyelids at the figure standing over me. She was a woman, wearing dark trousers, a matching dark shirt and black cape with dark red trimming around the hem. Her face was obscured by a hood, but her hair was visible in a cascade of soft locks that fell down to her chin.
I had never seen this woman before, but she seemed dangerous. She stooped over me, her hooded eyes like two pools of black death. As she realized that I was no longer asleep, she froze with a flinch, a dagger in her fingers.
"Shit..." She gasped, nearly dropping the blade onto the floor and stumbling backward. I drew myself up into a sitting position to regard what was obviously an assasin who had lost her nerve now that her target had become awake. The dagger in her hand was a long, curved blade, about a foot long and very sharp, with a serrated edge on one side. It looked to be made of some kind of odd metal, black and foreboding.
"What kind of assasin are you? You're afraid of an unarmed opponent?" I asked, laughing a little.
"Hey! S-shut up!" She stammered, angry and embarrassed. "You're an imposing target and I'm not here by choice."
She wasn't wrong, I did have some renown for my skill with a blade and my strength. I had been trained for years by the best teachers in the world, and had fought the Demon King's underlings countless times. But I also knew when someone was afraid and this woman was terrified.
"Who sent you?" I asked, trying to keep her talking while I formulated a plan.
"The Demon King, who else? I was sent to either kill you or die trying." She replied, trying to sound tough but failing miserably.
"And what makes you think I won't just kill you?" I asked.
She didn't answer, but instead looked around nervously, as if she were searching for an escape route. Finally she cast back her hood to reveal a head of soft, shaggy blonde hair. Her eyes were pale green and her skin was smooth and flawless... or at least it would be if not for the deep circles of exhaustion beneath her eyes. She was beautiful, in a way, but she was also clearly worn out.
Her next move was unexpected—she cast aside the dagger and gripped the front of her dark shirt, popping open just enough buttons to reveal a thick swell of pale cleavage. "Maybe we could come to some sort of arrangement where neither of us dies today?" She asked, biting her lip and looking at me with a pleading expression.
I sighed. "I've heard of this sort of thing, but I don't believe it. How do you know I won't just kill you anyway?"
"Because you're a man," she snapped as she flaunted her cleavage, "and men love this sort of thing right?"