"I see. Did your leaders send you on spy missions?" She can't think of any other reason, lest it was to maintain a peace between groups. Her next question stems from her imagination running a little more wild: "Assassinations of public figures?"

His first strike is hard and solid, and there's a resounding thump which echoes all around them. The force of the hit has her internally cringing. That must have hurt.

And the glass is unaffected. The next hit sounds just as strong as the first, earning a slight furrowing to her brows as her gaze flicks from the pod and to his hand. Surely that strike hurt? She steps beside him, careful not to stand in his way.

"There's not even a scratch on it. What sort of glass is this?"