"Woah, woah, woah, woah! Jack, let's talk this out properly instead of resorting to violence?" I laugh weakly as the razor presses further against my neck. I feel faint moisture in that area along with a sting and my heart drops since I know he's cut into my flesh. Who would've thought I'd be more in danger of losing my head outside the palace than in? What a dazzling twist of irony.
"It's Clever Jack, passenger! Say it correctly," Jack complains. Seeing how worked up he's getting about his name, I see a crack in his adultlike persona and go for the kill.
"Are you that clever? After all, threatening a royal person is grounds for execution in Erudian civil code, last I checked," My voice is low and full of deliberate, suggestive inflection, although it's hard to maintain in my weird body position. However, it seems that being threatened at knifepoint really has a way of clearing one's head.
