[ Vander had always been a brawler. From the time that they'd worked together to find a way out of the mines they'd grown up in, to the day that Vander had wrapped his hands around Silco's neck and dunked him into the River Pilt; Silco had known intimately just how Vander fought, how he moved. Just like Vander knew Silco -- apparent in the way he kept in the circle of his reach. Vander's reach, mind, using his long reach to his advantage -- which Silco didn't have.

Infuriating, he thought, his feet skidded back, that he was still on the backstep, but he didn't have the advantage of anyone to defend him, and he wondered, of course, if that had been foolish of him, to not sic some after him in the beginning, but at least... at least he hadn't made the first hit. After all, if word gets back about this, Silco had wanted plausbile deniability.

Which he had, but at what cost? His life?

Silco kept pulling him back, his steps slow, but Vander kept right out, and he dodged most of them -- a few got through -- and his jaw ached from it, but he brandished his knife, not to reach out, but he instead kept it close, a few swipes at an approaching fist or retreating wrist, kept his arms close, without reaching out. Didn't give Vander the opportunity to grab him --

Speaking of grabbing -- eyes flicked to the right, the shopkeeper was still going, going -- Silco's arm flashed out, lightning quick, to grab his collar, to pull him close. The man was... of average size, and they struggled in his grip, as he drew him close.

This had always been the difference between them, after all. Vander had always been... opposed to collateral, whereas Silco... ]

Now, now, Vander. Don't lose your head. This is between us, you don't want to put someone else in the cross-hairs, do you?

[ Yes, Silco had brought him into this -- but he didn't have the knife to the man's throat -- what was the play here? ]