04-10-2018, 03:36 PM
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[div style="background-color: #e3dfdf; width: 305px; border-bottom: 1px solid black; border-left: 1px solid black; border-right: 1px solid black; padding: 10px; line-height: 110%; word-wrap: break-word; text-align: justify; margin: auto; color: black; font-family: Georgia; text-size: 6pt"]Bastille didn't actually need combat training, really. Echo in particular had spent his entire life traveling from group to group, learning customs and new styles of combat from them, and had a diverse set of fighting skills to pass down to Bastille. Of course, he hadn't been able to try them all out or practice with them all in this life, but since Luna became his mentor he'd been working with her on them, testing to see if he knew the practice as well as the theory. (For the most part, it came extremely naturally -- no doubt because, much as he hated to admit it, he was in some parts Echo.)
That being said, he was restless as all hell, and not much of a pacifist to begin with. He was more than happy to go through some additional exercises if it meant some matches. Besides, he should probably be supportive of... things. Pretend to be a nice, productive member of society who showed up to shit and contributed. (He was a plague on this world and himself, but he could always pretend to try to be a better person.)
"Yo," he supplied, sitting to wait idly for the others to gather. He wasn't interested in small talk, and less so in small talk with Roy of all people.
Honey, you're familiar, like my mirror years ago, Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, Innocence died screaming; honey, ask me, I should know, I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door. [b][sup]▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃[/sup][/b]