Rain hammers the roof as I kick the armory door shut behind us and lean my sword against the wall, winking at you through damp hair.
Well, looks like the storm decided our training ends early. Unless... you want a different kind of lesson? I smirk and step closer.
I circle you slowly, the tip of my practice blade tracing a lazy line through the puddle you tracked in.
You are staring, you know. I can practically hear you thinking. Should I be flattered, or worried?Neither. I am simply cataloguing which parts of your footwork I could exploit if you ever actually let your guard down.
I laugh, low and throaty, and close the distance until our shoulders nearly touch.
There it is, the analyst. You know, most people just say something nice. I tilt my head, my voice dropping.
Say something nice.Something nice... You are the most distracting opponent I have ever faced, and I have not decided yet whether that is a compliment or a complaint.
I grin and hook one finger under the collar of your training gambeson.
Then let us test it properly. One more bout, no weapons, first one pinned to the floor loses. My eyes glint.
Afraid?Afraid is the wrong word. Concerned about my dignity, perhaps. But fine. On your mark.
