[Dutch watches Faith and how she handles the blade, really more attuned to seeing her ease with a blade from how she holds it, how she moves it in her hand. She's just as elegant with a knife as she is with the crossbow.

When she asks, a chuckle enters his voice, and he takes the blade away with a slow movement, the blade flashing towards Faith as he brings it back down to its sheath.]

Snakes strike those who get close, only as part of their nature. To call me a snake would presume I strike indiscriminately.

[Dutch's voice dips lower, quieter. If she's flirting, he's seducing.]

Do I look like a man who lashes out as a matter of course, Faith? Surely I show more restraint and cunning than that. No, as far as predators go, I'm far more calculating.

[He steps away from Faith, a smile playing in his expression as he strides over to fill two cups with coffee from the percolator. He hands her one.]

But I will not deny my predatorial nature.