Reaching up, Wyatt swept off his hat and tossed it aside, brim ringing on the grip of a sword left on the rack, so he could shift easily into the embrace - purely for better footing, the little thump of his pulse was nothing.

"An' here?" he asked, watching the tip of the blade as it cut through the air, slow and steady. Knowing, as the solid weight traveled up his arm, that he was increasingly alone in the arena.