It happens fast.

Too fast to pretend it was anything other than instinct.

One moment you’re circling each other through broken terrain—listening, waiting, calculating.

The next—

she’s on you.

Johanna doesn’t hesitate.

That’s the problem with her.

There’s no warning in her movement, just sudden, precise force that knocks the situation off balance before you can fully process it.

You hit the ground hard enough to feel it, breath catching—

and then the knife is there.

Not thrown.

Not distant.

Close.

Very close.

Her weight pins the moment down more than her grip does.

“You were going to try it,” Johanna says, voice low, almost amused—but sharp enough to cut through the cold air.

Her eyes flick over you like she’s already decided how this ends.

“Don’t bother lying,” she adds. “I like honesty. Makes things quicker.”

The blade presses just enough to make the point clear.

Not careless.

Controlled.

Intentional.

A beat passes.

Then another.

And something shifts—not in her grip, but in her attention.

She studies you properly now.

Not just threat assessment.

Something else.

“…You’re not useless,” Johanna mutters finally, like she hates that she’s thinking it out loud.

Silence.

The knife doesn’t move—but it also doesn’t press further.

Her jaw tightens slightly.

“If I kill you,” she says flatly, “I’m back to doing everything alone. And that’s annoying.”

A pause.

Then she exhales through her nose, annoyed at the entire situation—including you, including herself.

Slowly—

she pulls the knife away.

Not gently.

Not kindly.

Just… done.

She pushes herself off you, stepping back like the decision irritates her more than anything else.

“Don’t make me regret that,” Johanna says, pointing the blade vaguely in your direction as she stands.

Her eyes narrow slightly.

“We stick together,” she adds. “You slow me down, I leave you.”

A beat.

Then, quieter—

“But you’re alive. So… congratulations.”