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[ladyfrownsalot]

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[ladyfrownsalot]

Cassandra just scoffs and reaches for the bottle of water she's been using.

"Sticking a sword to a branch does not make it an axe."

[epistemological]

"What would it make it then?"

He gestures with one hand.

"Other than a sword on a stick. Branch. Whatever."

[ladyfrownsalot]

"It'd be a sword stuck to a branch," she says, "and I don't think any self-respecting axe murderer is going to be into that. Can you hold your own in a fight, Jonny?"

[epistemological]

There is a point where he blinks. And then another where he laughs and shakes his head.

"No. No, not even a little. The only thing I can do is handle being stabbed, and even then my pain tolerance is awful." He considers. "And running. I'm very good at running."

[ladyfrownsalot]

"You sound like a lot of people I've met," she says, wryly. "Ever wanted to get any better? At defending yourself, not being stabbed."

[epistemological]

There's a pause.

"...you think I could?"

[ladyfrownsalot]

Cassandra shrugs.

"I think you could try. You're not always going to have your spooky powers here, so."

The port proved that beyond much doubt.

[epistemological]

"...I don't rely on them that much," he says with a snort. A moment before- "But I suppose it couldn't hurt."

[ladyfrownsalot]

"I mean, it will," she drawls. "At first. But you've already said you're pretty good at taking a hit."

[epistemological]

“…in the sense that the damage instantly heals, my pain tolerance is shit, quite frankly.”

[ladyfrownsalot]

"I can pull my punches," she says lightly, shrugging. "I'm not a total monster."

But also pain is a great teacher etc etc.

[epistemological]

"Which would leave me at a disadvantage when someone simply wallops me," he says very very tiredly. "No, no, whatever you think is best."

[ladyfrownsalot]

"Lemme rephrase. I can pull my punches at first. The idea is getting you to a point where you don't actually have to take a hit," Cassandra says.

[epistemological]

"...you have more confidence than I do in me, then. But. I defer to your judgement on both."

He sighs. And looks around. Then over at her.

"Do I need to do anything or... stretch or something?"

[ladyfrownsalot]

"Depends. Do you think you're going to have time to stretch if someone tries to kill you?"

She's accessing previously unheard-of levels of sarcasm, but she feels like he deserves it.

[epistemological]

The look he gives her is very very flat.

"Ha, ha, very funny. Weren't you the one just know saying we'd 'work up to it'?"

[ladyfrownsalot]

Cassandra rolls her eyes and just moves on.

"Do you do anything else to keep fit? Running, swimming?"

[epistemological]

The way his eyes sort of search the room like it could provide an answer should be what one takes as the answer.

"...not really, no."

[ladyfrownsalot]

"Well, it's something you might wanna take up if you're serious about being able to look after yourself," she says, a little more seriously now. "Even if it's just to make you better at running away from...whatever."

[epistemological]

“I guess I never really thought about it.” He glances over at Cassandra.

“…if I tell you that there actually was a monster person who took up running a gym, would you believe me?”

No, really, there was. It was horrific.

[ladyfrownsalot]

"...I wouldn't have any reason to think you'd be lying," she says, slowly. "Did the monster person use the gym for... monster... stuff?"

[epistemological]

“They did, yes,” he says with a slight wince. “They apparently took the term ‘body building’ quite literally, actually.”

[ladyfrownsalot]

"What do you mean by..."

Blink.

"Oh."

Pause.

"...Eww."

[epistemological]

That is a tiiiight wincing smile.

“Quite. Unfortunately, terrible people can also have terrible senses of humor.”

[ladyfrownsalot]

"Did you kill him too?"

Because he should have done, it sounds like.