lingering in the ragged flagon like he had been, hushed and hurried words regarding a bounty with pretty coin had eventually reached his ears. the ratway had many hands in the honeypot. many eyes on the horizon. the job itself had little to do with why he’d found himself in riften at all, but the pitch had been an enticing one. that is, until he’d found himself in the draugr riddled tomb. and not alone. instinct demanded he watch and wait. allow the other man to lure out the dead from their resting places. the rattle of bones is a suffocating sound when the chambers around them seem to swallow any life daring enough to venture further.
back pressed against a web slathered cave in of rocks, killian barks out a short laugh. the sound swells and echoes, drawing more dead from their slumber. armor clanks, swords drag heavy against the ground.
“and rid you of your glory? what kind of gentleman would i be then?” killian pivots, the weight of his leather coat carrying his momentum enough to slam his own great sword through the belly of a skeleton. it groans, reaching for his arm to draw him closer. “tell me, you wouldn’t happen to - ah, one moment,” he slips his hook through the eye socket of the draugr, dragging down in the same breath he jerks his sword up and twists it free. dust and debris clatter and disperse, leaving him with a skull stuck to his hook. “ - you wouldn’t happen to feel inclined to throw yourself as bait to a greater good, would you?”
another two draugrs come circling. the first he’s able to bash in the head with the skull of his fallen companion. the bone fragments scatter about the tomb but the draugr pursues on. the second rushes the other man in the dark. “the greater good being my life, of course.”
his sword meets the draugr’s blade and their dance resumes.
he inhales dry dust again, as cold steel crushes ancient bones, and he must lean forward to stifle a cough. as he does so, another sword swings above his head. six turns on his heel in his crouched position, fingers tighten around the hilt of his weapon, putting all his body weight into the next attack and takes yet another skeleton down.
the stranger seems rather talkative, the pompous type, bold actions matching the smug little smile he wears. six doesn't miss the image of a hook inside a skull, a thick dark eyebrow is raised in reaction and he laughs a deep, roaring laugh hearing the other's question.
his words were just as twisted and tangled as the deadly dance he performed with the draugr. in six's opinion, there were more efficient ways to kill foes, which he proudly demonstrates with driving his sword through two long dead ancestor of his. he's quite satisfied with the job he's done, his competitive side is pleased, and it reflects in the curve of his lips. the black bat at the other side of the chamber better learns something.
❝ don't feel too bad, princess. you're good at guessin' and that must count for somethin’, I'm not the hero type ❞
the fight drags on for several minutes, but two living souls fighting the draugr is always better than one, and they clear the chamber slowly. with the last draugr down, six sheathes his weapon on his side and walks up to the other.
❝ wasn't so hard now, was it? ❞ he mocks but with a light tone and extends an arm, strong and calloused, towards the other ❝ call me six, princess. ❞