Salle [afternoon]

[bloody-luck.livejournal.com]

Never let it be said that Mat couldn't go and exercise when not being forced by bloody knife point. It wasn't that he was worried that Arthur some people here might outstrip him in terms of skill.

It was just that he hadn't worked with his quarterstaff in far too long and he didn't want his arm muscles to disappear. Not that he wanted to have shoulders like bloody Perrin, mind--he liked coats that fit--but women were more eager to talk to a man who didn't look like he would blow away in a gust of wind.

So there Mat was in the salle, beating the stuffing (not literally, at least, not yet) out of a dummy with a stick taller than he was.

He was really, really good at it.

[OOC: Open!]

Comments

[bloody-luck.livejournal.com]

"And I probably owe you at least a kiss already," he added. Smoothly.

[notqueenyet.livejournal.com]

"Do you think so?" Aravis asked, raising a brow.

[bloody-luck.livejournal.com]

He nodded very solemnly. "I do."

[notqueenyet.livejournal.com]

"Then," said Aravis, who had never been taught not to run with sharp things, "you'd best keep up."

And she ran off to store her weapon, and then try and beat him to her room.