“So, have you played Assassin’s Creed?”

I hadn’t even played a T for Teen PG13 Parental Advisory Explicit Content yet. “Yeah, I played one of them at a friend’s house once.” God, he was imposing, a fully grown man in the sixth grade, blue hoodie and all.

The blade popped out.

“Know how long it took me to build this?”

I didn’t even have to play the games to know what it was: the weapon of the titular assassin. A wrist knife with Spider-Man-style pulse abilities that rocketed out of your cloak and into your hand in less time than it took for my jaw to go from slightly open to clenched tight.

“No.”

“A month. I’ve been waiting to debut it.”

“Ok.”

“...I want people here to know to be intimidated of me.”

Big words from a big man with a big, fake, wax knife for my 6th grade ice cream social. He made a slight motion and the knife retracted into the bulky box under his sleeve: “Are you intimidated?”

My weight shifted to the balls of my feet as they turned away from him, eye contact  with the crack in the stone walkway maintained.

“Very.”