"I won't next time," she promised, pulling the blade she'd used on Sybille from its sheath. Briar approached, a gorgeous knife of her own glinting in the torchlight around them and Hermione considered her options. In a head-on physical fight, she'd be overpowered by the older, stronger woman. She hadn't seen Briar fight, knew very little about how powerful she was or how well-trained. Assuming incredibly and very-well indeed, Hermione figured her best bet was swift strikes over brute force. Dodge and weave, slice through tendons and joints and, if she had the opportunity, an important vessel or two. The air crackled with anticipation as they slowly began circling, both keeping their backs to the circular walls, eyes assessing. She knew Briar was looking for her weaknesses, knew that the woman wouldn't miss the slight tremble in Hermione's limbs, assumed she could see how thin and, ostensibly weak, she was. Briar shifted, and Hermione flinched back, causing the other woman's mouth to curl in a confident, smug smile. Hermione narrowed her eyes, shifting her grip on the knife as she yanked Adelaide's blade from her hip.