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The Salle, Monday Morning (before classes)

Not a lot of actual practice for Arthur today: the visible bruise on his neck was only a small nod towards the damage he and Reno did to each other last night. He'd be back in full fighting order by tomorrow.

As it was, he merely waited for his students to arrive. At least he could make them work for it - he'd be doing something useful one way or another.

He was trying not to think about the flagrant flaunting of his father's law he'd embarked on last night and then some. Beyond necessity or duty into friendship - was that a good idea? Being Arthur, he was failing spectacularly at the exercise.

[[ open salle, open post! ]]

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Dinah got there on time, moving very carefully, since last night's match with Daisy had been a real work-out-- not like last week's match with Liir. Other things on her mind made a sword practice a really good idea. Thinking bad.

"Morning," she said simply to Arthur, heading straight for the practice swords.

"Dinah," Arthur returned. He was still rather without a weapon of his own. Wouldn't need one for training. "I'll be pitting you against Alice today. You can get started on your forms while we wait."

Inside the salle, he was in control.

Of course he was. Dinah shot him a mild 'duh' look, then couldn't help but smile. Sparring, finally, yay! And at least last night's talk with Alice meant this wouldn't be really awkward or give her a reason to fear being run through. And thank god Arthur never listened to the Radio when he wasn't on it.

"Right," she said, looking for her usual practice sword on the rack, wincing a little, then heading over to the mat, sword in hand. It'd be great if he'd ever say anything else to her. But not so much her problem today.

First position. Second position. Third. Trying to keep her mind on the exercises, anyway.

Arthur watched her try for a bit until he got tired of it. He took a practice sword himself, unobtrusively, and stalked up towards the girl. He didn't say anything.

Just blocked one of her movements, suddenly, as fast as his current state could bring him to. Wince.

Sometimes you didn't need words to make a point.

Dinah jumped, startled, then chagrined. Evaluated her stance. Turned pink. "Wrist?" she asked, re-adjusting.

Coach was in the house, apparently.

"You can start by paying attention," he said, "Do you think any supernatural horror is going to sit by and wait while you finish thinking about your hair?" He lowered the sword accordingly.

That got him a glare. "I am! I mean, am not!" Ponytail, for crying out loud. And... yeah, not paying attention. Dinah grimaced, gritted her teeth, and didn't meet his eyes. "Okay. Attention being paid. Here and now."

Because hi, there's a great thought: Arthur also made out with Leto. More than made out with Leto. The ewww of that was making hari-kari a good option if she didn't begin to think straight now.

Arthur was seriously reconsidering notions of chivalry in full just so he could thwock Dinah straight in the head, but he reigned in the urge. "Or I could just leave you to it," he said, "And watch Alice slaughter you later. It'll be fun."

Do not stab your coach with a practice sword.

"Paying. Attention." Moderating her voice a little and hoping the blush would just go away, Dinah said, "Here to learn. Head in the game. Got it."

"See to it that you keep it there," he said, imperiously, and began his watchful stalk anew. "Start again."

Stabbity stabbity stab stab stab! That helped her go through the form with the right energy, at least. Partway through, the motions came back to her correctly, instead of having to think about them so hard. Thank god, muscle memory.

Fourth... fifth... head in the game, head in the game, gonna spar with Alice, right, keep it tight.... annnnd Dinah's attention started to drift again, no no no. "First," she muttered, focusing herself on the words too. "Second. Third. Fourth."

And Arthur circling like a shark, yay.

Oh, for the love of-

Arthur rolled his eyes. But he remembered what had worked before, so he counted with her, deliberate, slow, and devoid of any actual harshness. It was supposed to be a reminder, or a heartbeat, or something equally poetic; he was sure Leto could come up with the proper lark.

"First. Second. Third..."

Which helped. Annoying, but it did. And at least he wasn't yelling. Dinah's focus narrowed with the chant, and she got through the drill much more smoothly, attention occupied by words and movement. Relief. Swords were good. Swords were better. They were like facts, that way.

That may have covered the essential reasons of why Arthur liked them so much.

"--and four," he finished. "Now, what was that?"

Oh, God. As bad as that time in front of half the boat on Spring Break. Which had Dinah glaring at him, remembering that show-off incident. "Just preoccupied. That's all. You've never had something on your mind during a practice?"

"Yes, but I don't let it distract me to the point where I could easily have my head cut off, Dinah," Arthur replied. It was a severe liability in battle and she needed to get it drilled out of her as soon as remotely possible. "Excuses are not going to help you."

Helena had been the first person to say head in the game or lose your head to her, and the blush just got hotter as Dinah gritted her teeth. Right. Focus. Focus. Crap. How the hell was she supposed to focus, when as soon as she noticed she'd lost her focus, she remembered why, and got distracted again? Come on. Think.

"Yes, coach," she said, not aware she'd done it 'til the words were out.

Great. Well. He couldn't kill her any more, and that had been meant respectfully at least.

Dinah started the drill over, and put Leto in her mind's eye, killing him a couple times, then Arthur.

See? That helped.

Arthur had absolutely no idea what coach meant. It sounded disturbingly deferential, which caused a lift of a brow but nothing else. At least she was attempting to show some respect? He shook it off.

"Better," he said, to both training and tone, and came to a stop to focus on her movements.

He repressed the urge to say was that actual respect I heard there, Dinah? because although it was true and he desperately wanted to say it, it wouldn't contribute anything at the moment.

Dead. Dead. More dead. But carefully dead. Gotta make it clean....

Dinah got through the drill and felt the burn of muscles and calm of accomplishment, and yay, that bit with the backswing was coming along nicely.

She turned to Arthur and smiled, in a better mood now, too. "More? Or eskrima?" He was dead now. Dead dead dead. She could be nice. Aaaaand... he'd helped. Still a good coach, even if a huge prat in a Common Room.

"More," he said, somewhat satisfied - but only to a point.

Arthur didn't do well at being completely satisfied with anyone he was training. While he was training them, at least.

"I expect you to focus on the sword today. When you face Alice, remember that you are not yet anywhere near capable of a contest of speed. Consider it a two-ways' drill."

Dinah nodded in understanding. "Counter, and block, and counter." Which was good, doing it at speed would only lead to her falling over something, probably. Dead Coach Arthur was good at explaining stuff, at least.

She checked her grip again, and went through a tricky part of the drill, frowning. "This doesn't feel right. Am I not strong enough yet, or have I got the wrong angle?"

"You've got your arm bent like you're trying to strangle something," Arthur said, and started towards her with intent to correct the bent of her arm. That was when he remembered, and halted, inches away from her skin. "Straighter," he said, after a beat.

Dinah caught the hesitation, and turned darker red, then whipped her eyes front, back on the sword, loosening her grip. She ran through it again, twice, three times, and yeah, that did feel more balanced.

Mention it? Don't mention it? Maybe.... Other training would be the kind of thing a coach would want to know, right?

"Tahiri and I threw each other around here with padding, Thursday." Um. Okay, maybe not. But. Keep going. "Professor Ghanima's pleased at my progress on the other stuff. Blocking. Shielding." That would get the idea across. Hopefully.

...

"Is she," he said.

"Yes." Was she not supposed to mention it? Keep it terse. "Better focus. Endurance." Just say it. "Not likely to read anyone by accident." There. Nothing to be scared of. Not that he ever would be.

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The Salle, Monday Morning (before classes)

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