[...What.]

[Miguel follows Vulpes' gaze to the fallen butter-knife, and swallows. He wasn't just bluffing by giving off the impression that he wasn't afraid of dying in a fight- but that doesn't mean that Miguel would want his throat slowly ripped away by a blunt object. Sick bastard...]

[The Spaniard swallows; somewhat uneasy.] Just... Get the Hell off of me now- and I wont hurt you... as much.