[ota] always tests

[theacethatmatters]

Supposedly, it was just sparring. That's what the young Seven had said he was interested in, to learn. But Julien could see the gleam in the younger man's eye that suggested it was more than that. More about seeing if the Ace who was now proven to be fallible could fall even further.

At least, in sparring among Spades, it's not unheard-of to beat your opponent black and blue. Bruises to remember the lesson by. More unheard-of is Julien helping the young Seven back to his feet, apparently all courtesy. Though the hissed come back when you're worthy is rather less than courtesy, but for the boy's ears only.

Of course, it was only the first of many such tests and lessons Julien expected he'd be getting in the near future, looking for weakness. And in this particular case he was fairly certain the boy had been put up to it by a supposed friend to be the punching-dummy, as it were.

He shakes his head, flexes his hands, wipes the sweat from his face. Then he raises his eyebrows at the small audience that seems to have gathered in the practice room. "Anyone else? Because I'd really rather go have some tea."

Comments

[jokeswithknives]

It was easy to slip in the Castle now, what with all the comings and goings and bustlings and rustlings. Juliette didn't really care about the nuptials; but she did take the opportunity to filch a few pieces of fruit from the trays already stored away in the fridges.

Now, she sat down in the knife-room, watching while she nibbled on a carrot stick. And giggled every time someone's back smacked the floor. So funny, these Spadies. They didn't really know how to move, how to kill, how to open up tummies so that all the insides came out.

Pft, amateurs.

But she did hold out a clean towel, waggling it suggestively.

[theacethatmatters]

Julien looks at the towel curiously, then at the one that's already slung around his neck from where he wiped his face.

"What, miss Joker, is that for?"

[jokeswithknives]

She looked at the towel, back at Julien, back at the towel, then back to Julien. And scoffed.

"It's clean. Better than dirty, right?"

[theacethatmatters]

"And you think I need another one?"

What he needed was a shower. And that tea.

Being cordial about the favor has not occurred to him.

[jokeswithknives]

"You smell." Truth hurt, didn't it? And hey, she was being nice. Again, she waggled the towel. And smiled, her little-girl-with-scissors sort of smile.

The smile Uncle Cynric always liked.

[theacethatmatters]

"While I thank you for your concern, Miss Joker, I believe a towel is unlikely to stop one from smelling. A shower would likely be called for."

He'll pause and raise an eyebrow over at her. "And I can assure you for that I don't require any more assistance."

One never quite knew where the whims of a Joker might take them, after all.

[jokeswithknives]

Juliette just shrugged. "Oookay. If you say so." Tossing down the towel, she then dug around in one of her pockets and procured a handful of wrapped candies, holding them out.

"Want?"

[lowtohigh]

When she had been slightly younger, Lancelot had sat beside her while she watched Julien sparring. He had leaned his head down close to hers, rested a hand between her shoulder blades and murmured softly what to look for and what to discard. Watch his form; leave out his brutality. Watch his balance; leave out his underhanded cuts.

It's different, watching without that tempering voice in her ear. Different watching him now she's thirteen. Different watching since Zoe pointed her thoughts in the direction other girls this age tended to wander in. Different now he isn't an Ace.

It all boils down, in the end, to her rather jumping to her feet when she's certain he's finished. "Haven't you got one more round in you, Julien?"

[theacethatmatters]

He'd seen Eileen watching, out the corner of his eye, but during the lesson, he had had to leave it behind. Something to consider when he wasn't focusing on making an example of the man in front of him without going so far as to bring down Royal attention yet again.

So it's only now that she speaks up that he turns to look at her fully, gives her a considering look. "I suppose I might have, Eileen. What did you have in mind?"

[lowtohigh]

"Anything." Odds would throw them to knives, swords, his hand up to take hits from hers. Odds would throw to training rather than actual sparring. That wasn't the point. "While you're still--"

The clench of her jaw is brief. The word is murderous. The word is fired up. The word is actually capable of destruction. The word is genuine and raw and in pain of anger.

"--like this."

[theacethatmatters]

He looks at her again, more closely, interested in what wasn't said. And, since she came prepared, he just gestures out to the training mat, drops the towel he'd used a moment ago.

"Show me how you've been practicing, then."

It is entirely possible that he will expect more out of her now that she's older and in this moment when his mind is on how people will try to take advantage of any perceived weakness.

Eileen can't have that.

[lowtohigh]

Her hair's getting far too long to be practical. It requires actually tugging down and then bringing up into a tight, proper bun while she follows him, detours briefly toward the rack on the wall.

He's taught her to carry a knife, true, but tanto isn't at all the sort of thing one casually brings along in one's back pocket.

"Kevin's been working me on disarming."

[theacethatmatters]

"Has he." Julien's tone is carefully neutral. "Then let's see what you have learned, hm?"

And when she approaches, he'll accept the blade. He's always been her teacher, it's true, but now she might begin to be something more than student. If she proves she's worth the time, if she can begin to keep up.

So when they begin to move, it will be almost entirely like he actually intends on slashing her open with the tanto if she doesn't move fast enough.

[piqued]

It's one of those Days where a person needs something to remind them to breathe. The wedding will be upon them in an Instant, and his own carefully planned day is completely Shot ensuring that that goes off without a hitch.

There are only a discreet handful of Moments to be stolen. Most will, inevitably, go to the kitchen, but a few will be spent doing what's actually Lovely.

Like standing at ready with a glass of water and cup of tea when his former Ace is quite ready to sit down a few heartbeats.

[theacethatmatters]

"Much appreciated, Chives."

The water first, then, and he could follow it with the tea. "Perfect timing, as always."

He'd long ago stopped wondering how the Butler always Knew when he was needed.

[piqued]

"One does try to be on time, sir."

A little Strange, to go with 'sir' rather than 'milord.' Necessary. Establishing Things. Absolutely still spoken with a warmth of silent Devotion.

"Will you be remaining long, sir, or taking your meal?"

[theacethatmatters]

It's a little strange to hear Sir instead of Milord. The last time he would have been Sir with a Chives would have been well before this Chives was Butler.

And he'll shake his head, slightly. "I imagine I ought get cleaned up first, mm?"

Lest he fall out of favor.

[piqued]

Alive, yes, but nowhere Near being Butler yet. Certainly not Old enough to get anywhere Close to a 'sir' of this rank.

But here they were. Here they were Learning.

"Expect you'd be far more comfortable, sir. Shall you require any assistance?"

[theacethatmatters]

You're going to get a slight flash of amusement from the former Ace, Chives.

"I believe your intended might frown upon that Chives."

Even if that hadn't been what Declán had meant to imply at all.

Because they are fated to meet in Spade gyms?

[onlytolerable]

Spades aren't the only Cards who beat their opponents black and blue. Sophie manages not to wince even if the impromptu "lesson" brings back memories she'd rather forget. But soon enough she reverted to watching his form, the way he stood, if he had a pattern, any pattern--and sometimes no pattern can be one--did he favor one side over the other.

In the end she has to laugh at herself. You can take the girl out of the fight, but not the fighter out of the girl.

"Do you enjoy one style over the other, Master--" she stops the word in time and amends it, "Nine? Or a combination like just now?"

They're quite conveniently public that way

[theacethatmatters]

He'll raise his eyebrows slightly at her almost-misstep of title but not comment on it.

"I expect one particular style makes one predictable, Miss Berthier. Don't you?"

Of course, were someone to challenge him in a particular style that person was highly trained in, they'd have something of an edge over him even despite the Nine's speed and cunning.

[onlytolerable]

"I'd definitely agree. It doesn't mean one doesn't have one." She smiles suddenly. "Or that one should admit to such when asked impertinent questions by a curious bystander."

It depends on one's purpose. A mixture of styles is best in a real fight. Specific arts are usually chosen in challenges, at least in the case of Diamonds.

"And sometimes," she muses recalling her challenge with Gerhardt, "one holds back because swift defeat isn't the goal."

[theacethatmatters]

Good point, Sophie. You'll even get something of an answering smile in return.

"How interesting you bring that up," considering his conversation with Eileen earlier, "and why, pray tell, would you not wish to end a fight swiftly, Miss Berthier?"

Emphasis on you.

[onlytolerable]

"Why when the the fight is only a pathway to the real objective. And you, Sir?"

[theacethatmatters]

"I find I cannot particularly disagree with that. Should I worry myself about your objectives, then?"

Since you know. You're here. While he's 'fighting'.