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Black Mage had to push with all his weight to get Fighter against the wall and despite all of the clear malicious intent in such a gesture, Fighter still had the sheer idiotic audacity to reach out and put a helpful hand on his assailant’s waist to stabilize him as he moved up onto his tiptoes to reach the knife to his neck.
“You’re awfully calm for someone about to get their throat slit,” BM hisses, but Fighter simply smiles at him. “You’d never really do that, BM!”
Black Mage responds to this clear challenge by pressing the blade into Fighter’s flesh just enough to break the skin, and he looks up at the other with a triumphant and devious satisfaction, expecting to see his traveling companion utterly distraught and betrayed… but instead he is met with the same unwaveringly bright puppy dog eyes that always make his stomach churn.
He hesitates, clicks his tongue, draws the knife back and rocks back down onto his heels. “…You’re right,” he grumbles in annoyed acquiescence, “A quick and painless death is too good for you.”