Ace of Clubs:

There was a familiarity with this man, and for the first few seconds of their interaction, she spent her time studying him. He was muscular, tall, and had the same, drooped look hidden in his eyes; one that only a fighter would obtain through out the years. 

But oh, that comment -

“Excuse me?” Her gaze narrowed in on him, her fingers sliding over the leather of her sword’s handle masterfully. “You know not whom you’re speaking to, and if you did, I’m sure you’d hold your tongue especially about the correct way to handle throwing knives.”

     Alfred could feel her eyes on him, and he felt vulnerable. Never before had he wished for his helm as much as he did at that moment. Yet, he couldn’t stop himself from doing the same to her. The way she held herself just screamed higher class, but there was a certain strength to her that few could pull off well.

     The warning signs were popping up with every moment he stood there and observed. A hand gripped his sword, a much more obvious action than hers due to location alone, as the Ace continued to talk, “I didn’t mean to offend you; I was just making an observation. You won’t be able to hit it correctly if you hold it that far up.”