“Damn it,” he said, his lips scrunching with mild irritation.
He put his boot on the corpse, steadying himself so he did not slip on the fluids, and yanked on his sword. It came out a few inches, but remained lodged in Garak’s final opponent. The small man had been the last of dozens and his skill was not particularly good. Consequently, Garak had not swung with full commitment and failed to split the man from shoulder to hip as he had with done his other opponents.
“Guess I’m getting old and lazy,” he said to no one in particular.