Michael
Meti's decision as far as mitigating the attack went brought some satisfaction to the immortal, though her apparent reluctance to go entirely on the defensive and wait for an opening was in line with everything else she'd shown him. Before long, however, it seemed that she'd tired of the slower approach to the fight, launching a flurry of blows at the immortal. Smiling, Michael returned the favor, her counterattacks met with responses that served as offense and defense in the same breath. They both reoriented themselves numerous times, weapons little more than blurs and flashes as they danced, coming within mere inches of each other with each exchange yet never touching.
And yet Michael seemed as calm as ever throughout, even through the unrestrained malevolence he was focusing on her. This paradox of calm frenzy stood firm against her wild barrage, yet flowed with every strike, following her as her blades turned away every time the tide of a particular exchange shifted.
I suppose the next step would be to rob her of that room, then...
With that, the immortal's flurry intensified, his movements now intent on boxing her in, slowly chipping away at the room she had to retreat while continuing to meet every attack with a counter of his own. Every attack now came with a feint, every advance with a misdirection, Michael slowly encroaching on her space to see how she'd deal with not having enough to retreat further. After all, even in a real battle, she wouldn't be able to retreat forever, if she was ever driven to do so.