Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25686329-20150610231734/@comment-25686329-20150611050017

The Yankee genuinely smiled.

"And I find myself beginning to take a shine to you too." He found himself saying. His motions were large and sweeping, powerful more than tightly controlled. However, they were automatic, rehearsed and hereditary. "...You should count yourself lucky; I don't warm to people very quickly."

More swinging. She was agile, had good footwork.

He screwed up his face for a fleeting moment.

"Hardly too small. That said, your... fire MORE than makes up for any perceived 'size problems' or whatever." His fighting didn't suffer, even as he was making conversation. "Plus, gender ain't got nothing to do with it. Knew a few chick sword-swingers back at The Academy, anyway."

But none this visibly energetic and cute. Dangit, Yankee, stop thinking like that. She's probably just as much of a prick-on-the-spinningwheel as everyone else. Let her in and she'll shoot you down.

He had American endurance and Camelot training behind him, and his collected, deliberate style was in contrast to the sweating and slightly manic movements of the girl.

"I'm the Yankee," He said, at length. He noticed a slight change in her facial expression. He sighed. "Yeah, THAT Yankee." It would appear that his reputation preceded him, to say the least.

He gave a powerful sweep that forced her to step back, wait.

"What do I call you?"