Rex just tips his head towards the corpses that litter the crevice. Apparently he's been killing them since he got here. Ekkehardt is just 'another one.' All his paranoid worst-case scenarios about enemies lurking everywhere with the faces of friends are in his head. But that's where they are right now.

The question though gets a baffled look to appear on Rex's face. The sort that people get only when the question itself makes no sense. Ekkehardt may have well asked if Rex meant to spend all his time with his head attached. There's no other option. There isn't anywhere but here, this splinter in the world where he's lived for 13 years.

"Enough meaningless words. I tire of this," he says in a voice which could not more earnestly express the sentiment. Just another enemy, just another kill, just another day. He doesn't want to see whatever trick this one is pulling. Quicker to sever his head and be done with it. The move he pulls is an Arany Style one that Ekkehardt may have even seen cleave 8 men in one blow. He leans back in an extremely unnatural posture, the sword arm rising and his opposite tipping. In ballet, it's called Cambré.

There's well-practised poise, and every apparent opening it gives is a trap. When he swings, it's with his whole body. Twisting right from the ankle, all the way through his hips, shoulders, elbow, wrist. He practically throws the sword at him but goes along for the ride as a leap. His left arm stays limp as to not accidentally provide balance when the entire style revolves around commanding the unruly momentum caused by imbalance.