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[It's a reply that has him a little hopeful, though perhaps it's merely for friendly company, and not much else.]

Of course. I'll be there straightaway.

[And he will be, not making Arenvald wait. The walk is a short one, anyhow, from the interior of the temple to the coliseum sparring grounds, and Connor is easily spotted when he arrives -- he always looks a bit out of place amongst the practice weapons, the dummies, the dust-caked floor of the grounds itself. As if the world itself knows this is modern tech standing amongst more archaic traditions.

He finds his friend, as expected, close to the training dummies, calling out-]

Arenvald. Hello.

[ Arenvald broke away from the striking dummy once he decided to respond to Connor, stepping outside of the arena’s bounds and allowing the magical constructs to reset. So, while he may not be actively fighting when Connor approaches, it’s very clear that he’s been at it for a while – dust and sweat sticking to his skin in equal measure, hair tousled and wild thanks to a hand run through it when he began his break. No armor today, and there are a couple of welts evident on his upper arms, peeking below the sleeve of his t-shirt, where the dummy managed to land a hit or two.

Connor catches him in mid-swig from his canteen, head tipped back, his gaze sliding over to rest on his friend. For all the terrible things that happened, all the souls they lost when Akvos crumbled, there is a selfish corner of his heart that is so very glad to see Connor unharmed. ]

Hey. Thanks for coming out to meet me.

[He does appear like he’s been at it for awhile — all the signs point to that much, the look of a man who’s been deep in the thrall of exertion, enough for sweat to gleam on skin, hair tousled and a few reddening patches of skin where the dummy must’ve earned a glancing blow. And Connor is glad to see Arenvald, offering him a smile, quick to latch onto something good — even if it’s as simple as being int the company of a friend — in the wake of everything terrible that had happened.]

There’s no need to thank me. I wanted to drop by.

[He steps closer. There’s a stiffness to Connor’s gait and shoulders, something born of more than just being an android. And that isn’t accounting for his missing jacket, the wrinkles in his shirt, the strands of hair that have fallen out of place.]

I… felt it was necessary to see how all of my friends are doing. After the failure of our mission. Morale is understandably low.

[ As Connor approaches, Arenvald has a chance to mark his friend’s appearance. The lack of jacket, the unkempt shirt, and the stray locks of hair. For most people, it wouldn’t be much – Arenvald isn’t the neatest person around, and sometimes his hair and clothes do what they damn well please, and he does nothing to stop it – but for Connor it is certainly a lot amiss all at once. ]

I’m as well as can be expected, I suppose.

[ Which is to say not “well”. He’s frustrated and angry and sad, one more hole in his chest to sit alongside the other losses he has suffered, but he’s managing. ]

How are you?

[Now there's something of a loaded question, and the fact that Connor is even eager to meet Arenvald in the wake of such a great failure should be telling on its own.]

As well as can be expected.

[He parrots back the words, not to be wry or humorous, but to employ understanding. Commiseration, as he had told Hank, though the latter had been quick to dismiss it from under him.]

As much as I want to say that we should pick up and move on -- and as much as I do believe that, to a certain extent -- a critical mission failure of this size? It's difficult to not let it linger in memory, or let it influence the morale of the group as a whole. It's the reason why you're here, departed from everyone else, after all. Isn't it?

Aye, you’ve the right of it.

[ He hardly needed to answer that question, obvious as the answer already was, but he offers it up all the same with the slight lifting of one shoulder in a shrug. ]

Better to get it all out than sit on it, yeah? Still, it’ll take time for everyone to bounce back – and even then, we’ll not ever forget it.

But— [ It still concerns him, the way Connor looks disheveled (as much as Connor ever looks disheveled), and he reaches over to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from his friend’s forehead, trying to will it to behave with only some success. ] I think I’ve had enough of being alone for now.

[He’s as unmoving as an android can be when Arenvald reaches out to sweep away that stray strand of hair. It stays in place for a precarious moment, before simply falling back, swaying lazily across his forehead.

The gesture is appreciated, but more so than that — it’s enough to make Connor cast brown eyes to the side, hooking his gaze to nothing in particular just over his friend’s shoulder. There’s a connection here that he wants, he thinks, but doesn’t know how to really articulate it. Doesn’t know what he’s really here for. Is it as Arenvald says? To not be alone?

Who’s benefit is he really here for; himself or his friend’s?

And why does it matter? This sticking point in his mind, he wishes he could just leap over it without stumbling, though it’s so hard after all that’s happened; still, he tries.]

Then I don’t want to deprive you of company, but I also hate interrupting a session meant for you to blow off steam. Maybe a compromise is in order?

[ Connor’s gaze slides away and Arenvald isn’t quite sure what to make of that. He has half a mind to chase his gaze, to slide into his field of vision again, but he wonders if that would somehow be rude. He shifts his weight instead, easing back a little without really having to move. ]

Do you mean to join me, then?

[ He would have made the suggestion on his own eventually. Even if Connor says he doesn’t have feelings, Arenvald knows he does, and he knows that Connor will keep whatever he’s feeling to himself as long as he can. It’s like he said earlier – better to get it all out than sit on it. ]

Yes. If you don’t mind it.

[Only a matter of time before his eyes latch back onto the other, so Arenvald’s patience is rewarded with a lift of a brow.]

Would you feel up to hand-to-hand combat? It would be beneficial for the both of us to see how our reaction times have been affected or compromised by our time spent so long underwater. I would rather not have to take the weight and stress of weapons into account just yet.

[Ever a reason, done-up in rationale.]

[ It sure is a reason, forgetting that Arenvald has been at this all day, sword in hand, and Connor is an android.

Still, on the surface it seems sound enough, and Arenvald doesn’t care to put much thought into it. He is glad for the company, for Connor’s company especially, and he would have to be a fool to turn it down. ]

That’s fine by me. I’m not the best at hand-to-hand, but I can swing a punch or two if the situation calls for it.

[ He steps back, easing into the ring proper, trusting Connor to follow. ]

[Excuse you, it is a legit reason moving forward, okay.]

Then all the more reason for you to practice, Arenvald. Always better to be prepared; you’ll always have your fists, and you might not always have your sword with you.

[He does follow, seeming to gain a little more energy with each step.]

My combat suite consists of subroutines that might present a slight advantage over you in regards to speed and execution. But you have size and experience on your side — it’ll be a chance for you drum up creative ways of utilizing those same advantages.

[ Whatever you say, buddy.

Well, by his reckoning, he gets by just fine in an unarmed scrap, but he’s a brawler. He fights hard and mean – something drilled into him by years on the street, where being fiercer than the other kids would mean one less night without food.

He’s had to clock a few drunks in bar fights since then, but beyond that he has no technical training in hand-to-hand combat. ]

I didn’t even realize you knew how to fight.

[ This will prove interesting, then. ]

Of course I do. It would be strange for an android programmed to work closely with the police to not possess even rudimentary ways of defending itself.

[Connor may not look like much, just a beanpole of an earnest android, but the truth of the matter is that he's fast, he's precise, he hits harder than most humans, and he does so without hesitation when caught in the furor of a heated fight.]

Preferably I don't have to use them unless absolutely necessary. But it's always best to be prepared.

[ Ah, that does make sense. He'd just never considered it before. Whether he agrees with Connor's views on deviants or not (he doesn't), he doesn't doubt that some of them have reacted with violence with the authorities bearing down on them. He'd do -- and has done -- the same. ]

Well, then. Let's see what you've got.

[ Which is about all the warning he gives before he swings a right hook at his friend. He holds back a little, just to get an idea of how Connor reacts. ]

[Arenvald gives him no preamble, which might be surprising in its own right, if Connor were not an android. But his reaction time is quick, requiring less time to perceive and process than an organic mind -- his LED flickers quickly at his temple, and when the right hook comes swinging at him, it's simple enough to raise a forearm to block it, angling himself so that it misses in its follow-through.

He doesn't retaliate just yet, only digs his heels into the ground, and raises a brow where he stands.]

Don't hold back.

[Calling you out, friend.]

[ He knows it's coming and the ease with which Connor fends him off still manages to surprise him. Not without a little irony, he wonders if this is what people or primals see when they do battle with someone Echo-blessed. ]

Just testing the waters a bit, yeah?

[ But if Connor insists, he won't hold back anymore. With his arm still locked with Connor's, he steps in suddenly with a quick upward strike with his free hand, going right for Connor's gut. Arenvald knows he can't wind him, but he's got to react somehow, right? ]

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