Giles flushed at Francois’ playful taunts and shrugged off the sword, chuckling. He didn’t think Francois could ever hurt him, physically or emotionally. He trusted the man with his life, even if he hadn’t seen him for years. Oddly enough, Francois still looked the same all those years ago, perhaps slightly more eccentric but Giles never did mind the man’s antics. He thought them funny and delightful as a child. He doesn’t doubt that he still would today as an adult.
Giles smirked and nodded, stepping back and unsheathing his sword as he got into the stance that was sufficient enough. “Straight to business, Francois. Of course.”
Chuckling, Giles waited for Francois to strike, wanting to give the man a fair chance. They always use to play with wooden swords -Giles’ mother didn’t think he was old enough to use a real sword until he was fifteen- but now it was the real thing, and Giles felt that much closer to Francois. No matter how the spar went, Giles knew that he’ll always have much to learn from Francois and whether it was about being a knight or not, Giles always enjoyed hearing the man’s tales.
Francois stepped forwards, to the side and around the man, his feet crossing over, nimble as if he’d been dancing all his life. As the metal swiped through the air he laughed, clanging it against the other man’s sword, over and over against the sound of swordplay rang through the courtyard and he was smiling, there was probably a glint or two of fang here and there as he laughed, but Giles seemed not to notice.
He just could not help but notice how much the boy had grown, and yet stayed the same, still the sweet, trusting boy he had always been and, for a small moment, he felt guilty for not being completely honest with him, but how could he? He was a man of God, a child of God, and Francois was not. An abomination and a monster, as many had called him.
‘You ‘ave to keep up, little man!’
He chimed, dancing around him, smacking his armour with the flat side of the sword. IT was easy to say that, from his years of practise, Frankie was quite good with a sword, better than most and would soon be the best of them all he did, after all, have all the time in the world,
‘Or are you weighed down by all that silly armour?’