Backing off? Hardly. In fact, his concealed blade has already made its way more assuredly against his palm, a subtle shifting of fabric and fingers keeping the movement well-hidden; he lowers his hands, letting the cool metal slide easily into his grip. His nerves settle into a comfortable hum in his pulse, the adrenaline sparked by this new threat all-too-welcome after sitting stagnantly in that tree for so long.

He laughs again, but rather than the soft sound it was before, this time there's a manic sort of humor to it. His grin doesn't falter.

"Nyahahaha! Yer an idiot, huh!" It doesn't really sound like an insult. He actually sounds delighted by the fact. His stance widens only marginally, a slow shift of his feet that allows him to steady himself with one arm angled at his side and the other, his knife now held purposefully between his fingers, braced in front of him. If she decides to come at him, she'll find that the knife will be quickly thrown just ahead of her--whether to set her off balance to dodge or to embed itself into a leg, who's to say really--while his other hand retrieves one of his swords to deflect a potential blow.

In the meantime though, it seems they're at a standstill. If it comes to a fight, he'll be happy to oblige... but really, it all seems rather silly, doesn't it?

"My tongue ain't the issue here, lady. Ya sure you wanna risk yer life over some desserts?"