"Anna." Emile nodded, his eyes drifting from her eyes to her bosom and back. He knew her, and he knew that he did--it was on the tip of his tongue, so close he could taste it, but just out of reach. Much had happened since he'd been removed from his post; plenty of time  to forget a face. Her tough grip startled him. That, he was certain he would remember of a woman, but if anything it made him doubt himself. Maybe he'd already had too much to drink.<br/><br/>"I should say the same for you my lady, you have the iron grip of a smith! If you're interested in swords, I've got something to show you." He unstrapped his sabre and scabbard from his hip to show her. The scabbard was black with floral details carved in cherrywood. The handle was silver and featured a French cage to protect the hands. "This sword is special, you see; it's a tad longer than others in its class. Makes for a nasty surprise when a man thinks he's out of range."<br/><br/><em>And if you like this sword</em>, he thought,<em>I've got another like it.</em>