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The Salle, Monday Morning

It was a Monday morning, and yesterday at Fight Club had been mostly unremarkable ~~beyond the usual issues~~ and so of course Arthur was in the salle, about half an hour before he knew anyone was going to come looking for him (which made it very, very early) having at a dummy with a practice sword.

The only thing that was different was that he was wearing his chainmail - so he could keep himself adjusted for the extra weight. It was also, in many ways, a familiar friend and he welcomed the extra strain on his limbs as he moved.

All in a day's training.

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"Arthur! Good morning!" Zack gave a grin as he walked into the Salle. "Nice mail, man!"

Hey, he had to comment. The mail meant that he wasn't the only guy running around in armor today. Which was awesome, dangit.

[Pinged in with the usual Monday-morning-boo-I-have-to-work clause tacked on. Is SP shiny?]

"Zack," Arthur returned, walking up to him with a kind of swagger that implied that yes, it was nice mail, but that was fairly obvious. "Morning. I trust you're not bringing your beach umbrella this time."

He had to mock. It was in the contract.

[ always! ]

"Nope. Today I'm umbrella-free," Zack promised, reaching back to give the hilt of his sword a casual pat. "I save my umbrella for emergencies, now."

Yeah. Sure.

"Unless you have a broomstick. Then I might make an exception."

[Hurrah! And now I flee!]

"No broomsticks," Arthur promised, giving his practice sword a casual swoop with the appropriate noise.

Dinah was in a less tense, more centered frame of mind than last week, since there was no residual awkwardness to look forward to with anyone who might be in the salle this morning. "Hey, Arthur!" And a hum and a bounce as she headed over to get her sword.

"Morning, Dinah. Try to walk straight," he said, idly. What? He was still finishing up his drills!

Don't ask how he could tell she was bouncing with his back turned. Just don't.

He could probably tell she was sticking out her tongue at his back too. Dinah picked her sword and joined him on the mat, stretching out her shoulders before starting her drill. "New stuff today? I practiced the last drill, the attack one. A lot."

Fiona came, as she usually did, and went immediately to go get her practice sword before presenting herself to Arthur.

"New 'stuff'," Arthur agreed, "But first, a short spar to see how you've been coming along, if at all." He finished his drill with a flourish (of course).

Of course she did. Arthur glanced at her as she did so. "Fiona. Morning. I trust you've been practicing?"

She nodded.

"Of course. I wouldn't come if I hadn't. How was your weekend?"

"Peaceful." And boat-y. Not that Arthur would use the word boat-y; he did have a few choice descriptions of how Merlin was kind of an idiot and Lady Blysse had nearly gotten sick all over it, but the likelihood of offering those to Fiona was slim to none. "And yours?" he asked, as he finished up what he was doing to give her his full attention.

"Thankfully uneventful," she said, relaxing just a little. She was a little less frigid now; her defensiveness had been more to do with nerves than any actual negative emotions towards Arthur. It helped that Dinah had told her that his comments were more to keep her sharp and focused than anything; Audrey had done that, marked her down to make her improve her writing just through sheer irritation.

"What would you like me to do?"

"Let's see how," disturbingly immaculate and just disturbing, "Well you've come along with your drill from last week."

He was going to run out of basics soon enough.

Romeo showed up on his break from work. "Arthur. Teach me something new today," he said, instead of a greeting.

It had not been a great week. Getting hurt, trying, something new to give his brain -- that would be good.

Dinah restrained a 'eeeee!' and finished her own drill, arms in the correct position, feet quickly corrected, and took up the ready position. C'mon, c'mon, do this right...

If Arthur had a coin for every time he'd heard that today. "Romeo," he said, lifting the slightest eyebrow at the lack of his usual greeting, but after a second the whatever kicked in and he let it slide. "Hand to hand, the staff, or are you asking me to give you a sword and see how long it takes you?"

To take off one of his own limb, that is.

She nodded before drawing back away from him for space. She paused, thinking to perhaps ask him if he really was annoyed with her for some reason while they were doing this, but brushed it aside.

He'd bite out a 'no' and then he'd be so annoyed you couldn't look for it.

Then she launched into the drill from last week, a little faster than she'd shown it to him during their lesson. She wasn't going to slack just because she no longer thought she was dragging behind, after all.

While Lady Elspeth was - he had to admit - an actual swordswoman he could compete with, Dinah wasn't. Which meant that Arthur was holding back from the minute he took his own ready position.

And... waited.

Yes, much like he'd predicted. At this point 'annoyed' had settled into a lower-grade 'resigned' as he mostly fruitlessly searched for anything off. "At least your mind is still working," Arthur said (high praise) and raised his own sword. "Now," he said, "Let's see if you can actually anticipate on something."

Oh, she hated this part. Because if you attacked first, you left yourself open, but that was the whole point, was to fight, and he'd taught her that drill for a reason, so.... Dinah circled, and looked for an opening, and gritted her teeth and when she was sure she had the best position she could, went for it.

Swing, low to high, and keep moving on instinct so he couldn't get to the weak side if she moved fast enough.

She raised an eyebrow before pulling back. Best to have more room between her and Arthur; she didn't know what he was going to do and the more space he had to cross, the better she'd be able to react.

She settled into one of the more aggressive stances she'd been shown.

It must have been that kind of day, somehow.

"How long it would take me to do what?" Romeo asked, but his eyes on the sword rack were curious and even a little envious.

"Permanently injure yourself," Arthur said, cheerfully. "Unless you pay attention."

"I am not going to maim myself," Romeo said, heading over to the rack. He hoped he was right about that.

"Was it a good weekend?" he asked as he tried to select a practice blade that felt heavy enough to have some heft, light enough that he wouldn't drop it. or be overly clumsy.

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The Salle, Monday Morning

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