"Right in that soft spot." She confirms idly, squatting back down across from her. "Bullets aren't kinder; they're just more convenient. Also not reusable." Sylvie reaches across, pulling a knife from the dead soldier's leg strap, and takes a fistfull of hair to pull the head in the right position, lining the tip of the knife up with the crease beneath the skull. "You put the tip of the blade here, and then push very firmly; one quick deep motion severs the spinal cord. They're dead before they know what happened."

The hilt of the knife is ornate and Sylvie makes a decision to keep it then, dropping the dead man's head as she stands up. "There's plenty of bodies to practice on here if you wanted."