To her, she's always walking close to death. Some upstart somewhere will get lucky one day, and she'll lose her head. Or, one of the few older Immortals will finally come out of "retirement" and come hunting heads.

"I'm not even what, darling?" She asks, curious. She accepts the odd comment. She knows that she's odd. Especially when compared to a youngster like Kylo.

Heather turns her back on him and wipes her sword before setting it on the coat that she's almost never without. "No, I believe we're done, for the time being." She says it gently, without heat at all. "Once a temper is engaged, sparring becomes something more and while you might not mind it, I'm not looking for a fight."