[ That derisive tone of voice doesn't go amiss; with his nerves already rubbed raw from handling the knife, Gen is quick to catch that note of condescension. What, does this guy think he's too good for fisticuffs 'cause he knows how to handle a knife? There's a pause as he studies the way Silco slips that knife out of view before offering a snippy retort: ]

Yeah, thanks. I'll tell him you said he's doing a good job.

[ No, he absolutely will not be telling Eustace that he was bested by some scrawny old guy with a knife and given a backhanded compliment for it.

His knuckles crack from how hard he'd been clenching his hand, and Gen idly works the stiffness out of his wrist. ]

So, no other weapons, and you said you're not a front-liner. Then what are you? 'Cause I sure can't imagine those Pleroma just standing around and letting you get close enough to stab'em somewhere important.

[ And surely simply throwing a knife has its limits. ]