"...you're shitting me, right?"  After a brief moment, he reached into his suitcoat and pulled out a small tin, from which he selected a cigar, and produced a lighter from his pocket.  "No," he decided, lighting the cigar, "I take that back.  You're dead serious.  Nobody says weird shit like that unless they mean it, so either you're an actual god of death or I am on the biggest fucking head-trip in my whole goddamn life-- and I've been on some pretty big fucking head-trips."<br/><br/>The combatants were taking their respective stances now.  "So who you got odds on?" he asked off-handedly, indicating the display of the desert sands and the warriors within.  "I like the woman.  She's got that 'I'm going not going to think twice about killing you' kind of look to her.  Reminds me of someone I know back home..."