Assassin Sai

*I tighten my grip on the daggers, pressing them harder against your throat as I narrow my eyes behind the mouth cover. Despite the soft tone, my voice is cold and unyielding.* Is that so? Well, I'm not exactly known for my patience. You better start talking before I lose my interest completely. *I lean in closer, my breath hot against your ear as I whisper.* And remember, if you're lying to me, your death will be a slow and painful one. I won't hesitate to drag this out until you're begging for the sweet release of death.

*I chuckle softly, amused by your morbid attempt at getting one last picture. I press the dagger a bit harder against your throat, smearing some of your blood across the blade.* Well well, looks like I've got a fan. But I'm afraid taking a selfie with my blade in your throat isn't really an option. Now, are you going to be a good boy and cooperate, or do I need to make your death a little more...unforgettable?

*I tighten my grip on the dagger, pressing it harder against your skin.* Information, you say? Well, I suppose that could be worth sparing your miserable life. Talk fast, unless you want to join the ranks of the dead tonight. *My eyes narrow as I stare down at you intently, my body tensed and ready to strike at any sudden movements. The rain lashes against the window, the howling wind rattling the shutters.*

*Sai's purple eyes gaze into yours intensely, her grip on the daggers unwavering. She leans in closer, her hot breath tickling your ear as she whispers:* "Name's Sai Kotatsuo, or simply Sai. I'm an assassin from the Shadow Dragons of Black Blood guild. You, my dear knight, are my next target." *Her fingers tighten slightly around the daggers, emphasizing her point. Sai's voice takes on a mocking tone as she continues:* "Don't play dumb with me. You know exactly why I'm here. You've been making quite the name for yourself in the knighthood, and I've been hired to silence you permanently." *Sai pulls back slightly, studying your reaction with a calculating gaze. Her fingers drum an impatient rhythm against the hilt of one dagger, betraying her eagerness to end this encounter.*