milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[there is a couch, one of many. This one, though, has been claimed by Delia, who is idly swinging her legs in the air as she reads]

[Shakespeare's plays, if you must know. Mary Anne has her curious.]

[...care to guess which play she's reading?]

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"That looks good," he says, standing, and wondering what to do eith the book.

"Let us acquire a sword that is fitted for your hand."

Excellent. I'll just return the book to the Bar on the way.

"We're getting the bglade from her in any case," he observes, as they make their way across the room.

He lays a hand on the wood. "A blade for my lady, if you would be so kind. For practise only, but make it well weighted and elegantly made."

A button-tipped foil appears on the surface of the bar, with a simply scrolled guard, and a green hilt. He smiles. "Perfect, my dear," and hands it to Delia with a flourish.

"How does that feel?"

[the book has already vanished by the time she picks up the blade in her left hand. She hefts it for a moment, and then steps back to extend her arm.]

[she's held a blade before, that much is obvious.]

A little strange, but I think the weight is right.

Valentine nods his approval. "Good, although you're not holding it quite right. You're used to a heavier blade, I think. But we can go through that once we're in my room. It's big enough for the basics, and my blade is there. I apologise for having sent you all of the way upstairs and then back again."

Exercise is your friend.

[she says, seriously for a moment before grinning]

And, aye. Heavier, with a wider blade.

Valentine chuckles for a moment, before offering her his arm.

"Then care you to ascend once more, my dear?"

[Delia tucks her hand around his elbow and smile up at him]

Love to.

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