[Though that last word might sound like it was directed at her, he taps his free hand to his chest as he says it and instantly stops making sound. There's no crunch of twigs under his feet. No whistle of wind as he snaps the makeshift bat through the air toward her chest, quick and heavy, looking to break a rib or a collarbone. Sure, she can still see him, it's not like it's a perfect advantage, but he knows from experience how disorienting his enemies often find it when they lose all the sound cues they're expecting to hear - including the crack of their own broken bones.]
no subject
[Though that last word might sound like it was directed at her, he taps his free hand to his chest as he says it and instantly stops making sound. There's no crunch of twigs under his feet. No whistle of wind as he snaps the makeshift bat through the air toward her chest, quick and heavy, looking to break a rib or a collarbone. Sure, she can still see him, it's not like it's a perfect advantage, but he knows from experience how disorienting his enemies often find it when they lose all the sound cues they're expecting to hear - including the crack of their own broken bones.]