Methos, newly returned from his mall trip, heads into the armory to see about honing his blade. They'll be heading out soon, and there's no telling what they'll run into.
He whistles low when he sees the katanas. "Amazing quality. Tell me there's more where these came from."
Krauser looks up from where he's currently sitting against the wall (later, he'll move outside for better lighting,) and blinks. "These don't seem familiar to you?" He rotates a blade helpfully, lifting his fingers away from the tsuba and tipping it so that the hilt is more visible. "I understand you almost got a very good look at them. You weren't that pleased with them then."
"Yes." Krauser brings it back in. His grip on the sword is too. . . casual to be that of a true swordsman, one who knows the value of the weapon. He seems to have a sense of that 'handle as an extension of the arm' thing, however. "I could make a mobile out of them for her, I suppose, but that's about it."
"She's in the infimary, being dead," Krauser says bluntly. Hence the blade mobile hanging over her cot--nobody appreciates psychopath humor, do they? "Something took exception to her being alive. Outside the gates. No bites on her."
"She died fast." Krauser flips the blade over, letting it rest on his palms at the hilt to study it more closely. He's got a cloth between his fingers and the blade. "She wasn't attacked by some thug with a stick with a nail in it. Or a hungry vampire. What else've we got out there?"
He's just watching, but since that's his usual behavior, there's nothing really unexpected about that.
"Not many of us have that much." Krauser's nowhere near their level with a long blade, but he's a weapon. "She was human, remember." He extends the sword, flat to the light, and stares down it.
"Here." He flips the sword hilt-round and tosses it lightly. "I'm sticking with oils to clean it. Wax is out, it's Japanese make. Got a better idea? And the hairline mark along the blade about three inches off the point: how deep is that? Just surface?"
He knows Methos isn't going to drop it. Tell him about skill, again?
Of course he catches it. It would be an insult to let such a fine piece of work hit the ground.
He examines the blade carefully. "Oil's definitely your best bet," he says absently without looking up. "This mark looks superficial. Few passes with a good stone should just about wipe it out."
Methos gives the blade a few experimental swishes through the air.
"I know it's morbid to say it with the poor girl newly dead, but I wish I could have one of these. It really is a master weapon."
He flips the blade around and offers it back to Krauser, hilt first.
"Thought so, but it's hard for me to judge. I'm used to this." He draws the knife. The light catches the design etched below the hilt. He puts it away as he accepts the sword. "I'm not sure what to do with them yet. She didn't have family here. The people she was closest to--well, Mel can't use a sword. We need to use our weapons, not leave them on the wall until people are ready. I was thinking of letting Iroh take one, if he could use it. The other? Well."
Let's just allay these nasty suspicions we have!
Oh wait. Communist sensibilities first. "What would you do with the one you have?"
"Wasn't mine to begin with. I'd give it back to Angua. What she does with it after that would be up to her. I much prefer katana to rapier, given the choice."
"I've had my share of students over the years. I can teach. And no, I can't say that I have. But I'm leaving out with Percival on his little quest, and who knows what we'll run into. A good blade is going to be something of an asset out there."
"It's possible something like Magog with the ability to open the damn food cans themselves have landed in the next city over." Krauser considers the hairline flaw against his sharpening tool and decides to be sure the acid residue's off before taking off any more metal. "So how've you been getting ready?"
He whistles low when he sees the katanas. "Amazing quality. Tell me there's more where these came from."
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"These aren't Miho's, are they? Girl's not that green as to let them outta her sight."
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"Right. And where is she now?"
He looks around the room. She wouldn't let these out of her sight, so she's got to be close.
"Shit, she's got that ninja stealth thing down."
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Yeah, that's about all there is to say on that.
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He's just watching, but since that's his usual behavior, there's nothing really unexpected about that.
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"Christ. We've got something worse now? Something that could take that girl down? I'd seen her in the training yard. She had skill."
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"Here." He flips the sword hilt-round and tosses it lightly. "I'm sticking with oils to clean it. Wax is out, it's Japanese make. Got a better idea? And the hairline mark along the blade about three inches off the point: how deep is that? Just surface?"
He knows Methos isn't going to drop it. Tell him about skill, again?
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He examines the blade carefully. "Oil's definitely your best bet," he says absently without looking up. "This mark looks superficial. Few passes with a good stone should just about wipe it out."
Methos gives the blade a few experimental swishes through the air.
"I know it's morbid to say it with the poor girl newly dead, but I wish I could have one of these. It really is a master weapon."
He flips the blade around and offers it back to Krauser, hilt first.
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Let's just allay these nasty suspicions we have!
Oh wait. Communist sensibilities first. "What would you do with the one you have?"
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"Wasn't mine to begin with. I'd give it back to Angua. What she does with it after that would be up to her. I much prefer katana to rapier, given the choice."
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He's going to start giving classes on archery. He's going to have to.
"Have you needed a blade much, this past week?"
Just asking. Because of usefulness. And stuff. Yeah.
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