He laughed finally, after breaking his serious demeanor. "Don't lie about the size, Irisa. Your knives are pretty small though, that I'll give you." He jumped as another knife whizzed by is ear. He shook his head to wipe out the nerves; he didn't think she'd hit him, but dodging knives still wasn't fun.
He looked at her again, hands up in surrender so he wouldn't have to continue being a target for throwing practice. "Listen, Irisa, don't you think we should probably discuss what happened in here at some point? We don't have to act on it again," He was lying, he desperately wanted to act on it again. "But we should discuss it. That's probably safer than target practice."
He wanted to tell her how good she made him feel, not only in that instance, but when she was around. When they spent time together he genuinely laughed at things she did and said that were funny. He wanted to tell her that the time they spent together always made him feel alive and like he was doing something worthwhile. But they didn't have to discuss that now. "Let's at least talk about something. We don't have to talk about that if you don't want to, but I'm not going to sit here and not talk to you." He leaned back in his chair casually, waiting for a reply.
Irisa stalked over to where Tommy was, knife in hand. She stood directly before him; it was her turn to speak. "Hmm, I don't know. I like using you as target practice. Perhaps I'll get you . " she said, positioning her knife slowly at the top of his nose, careful not to leave a mark. She smiled lightly before withdrawing her knife.
She liked to taunt him. It was one of the things that got her through the days in Defiance. Their friendship had reached that stage where they would throw abusive comments to each other and laugh about it. That is, if she could still call it a friendship.
She knew the issue had to be addressed, she was just avoiding the subject. She had a habit of doing that. Irisa pulled up a chair, turning it so the back was facing Tommy. She straddled the chair, chest resting up against the back, arms position at the top of the chair. "And what, exactly, do you want to discuss?" she asked. She knew what he wanted to talk about, she just didn't care to bring it up herself.
He had that grin on his face again; that mischievous grin she knew so well. She knew more about the looks he gave than she'd like to let on. They'd spent so much time together it was hard not to notice such things. She cleared her throat, waiting for his response, not that she particularly wanted to hear it. "Well?".