Birds of Prey. [Florian]

[Eitan Angevin]

"Nervous," he repeated back.

Albrecht had admitted it and Angevin had acknowledged it.

"You evaded my attack," he continued slowly as if working something out, or perhaps drawing the discomfort out until it forced the Lysanrin into action, "used my force against me to bring me down, and now you have me pinned to the floor. You went from hungry to nervous." He considered quietly, then shifted his hips underneath that slender body's weight, adjusting for more comfort if he was stuck in this position. "Huh."

He waited, but when it didn't seem that Albrecht would press his advantage, he finally spoke up again.

"Does my instructor want me to move, then?" he asked, flexing his wrists against Albrecht's grip and shifting under him again. Perhaps it was preparation, getting ready for some explosive action. Perhaps he was just teasing his subordinate, prodding at his nerves to see what would happen next. The Lysanrin experiment; that's what someone in the Order of Reconciliation had called this situation, putting a Lysanrin directly under the command of a Watcher with skills as a Warder.

Even Angevin wasn't certain what they really expected except that he keep Albrecht in line and ensure that his powers were used in the defense of State interests. That didn't seem like a problem so far. The private had joined the military voluntarily, knowing he would be subject to a chain of command, hazing, hatred, and all the rest. He had submitted to that and he had submitted to an overseer, and while he was performing admirably, which might improve the lot for his people if they chose to follow his example, he was a knot of nervous energy buzzing over Angevin's belly.

[Florian]

Florian looked back at Eitan directly as his frustration mounted. He willed himself into calm, to collection. He was not truly angry at Eitan, no, and his eyes still reflected this fact with the icy white of nerves rather than the black of anger. It still took years to sink in.

"Yes." Came his reply. He knew what he was doing. He had to know what he was doing. He would refrain from calling the man a bastard, if only because he knew the connotations of the word and Eitan's situation. Florian was a bastard, too, but he'd never been in a situation for anyone to know enough about him to prod him about it. He removed one of his hands from Eitan's wrist.

"From here, I could have hit you back," He suddenly deigned to hide his discomfort in another lesson, and made a fist. He brought it close to Eitan's face, but only gently tapped his chin. "While you were still confused from suddenly being on the ground. Makes it a bit difficult to get back up when you're being punched in the face. You have to be able to focus when you're in pain." A lesson that Eitan already knew, he was sure. "Keeping a clear head is important. If you let anger direct you, you'll end up in a bad spot." He gestured to his horn, his fist long removed by now. "You should know that when I'm angry enough, my eyes turn black. My mother told me for years, 'Black eyes lead to black eyes.' Whether or not she meant mine or another's..." Florian trailed off.

"What I know is how to redirect. I may be tougher than I look, but I can't take much of a hit. You, however," He tilted his head, his hand on Eitan's chin. He tilted his head to one side, and then the other. "You can take a few hits, I think." It would be a shame for such a pretty face to get bruised, but maybe he'd be able to avoid such a fate. "But brute force can only take you so far." Florian released Eitan's other wrist. Within a few blinks, his eyes had returned to their neutral blue, perhaps a hint of violet hiding in the edges. He hated his own capriciousness, his own flighty moodiness.

"Are you a fast learner, Eitan?"

[Eitan Angevin]

Angevin listened, of course. He was here to learn, though he was learning as much about Albrecht as about fighting dirty. He watched those eyes go from nervous white to calm blue even as he learned what black meant. If he was staring, well, he didn't have many options pinned to the ground. Despite the changing colors, they remained quintessentially Albrecht's or so it seemed to the watchful Watcher.

He smirked and shrugged his shoulders when Albrecht wondered aloud whether he might weather a few hits. For a moment, he considered telling him to try, but then he kept asking questions. Was he a fast learner? Different people would answer for him differently, he supposed. Lacking places to put his hands, he rested them on Albrecht's knees, maintaining eye contact as they slid up his thighs to rest on his hips. The moment lengthened, time dilating.

"Let's see, shall we?"

Barely had the words come out of his mouth than he proved how strong his hands were. One pushed while the other pulled, spinning Albrecht's weight off of him. Then he scrabbled to get up and over and pin the Lysanrin down. It wasn't elegant, but it was effective—at least at freeing him. Whether he could pin the wriggling weasel down without a nail and a hammer was anyone's guess.

Zaichaer raised competitive sons. It got him through the military academy. It drove him up the ranks of authority. It kept him galvanized to win. Of course, in their case, they either both won or they both lost. The Order had bound their fates together. There might be ways out of it, but none had presented itself as of yet. Perhaps it never would. They might just be stuck together and have to make the best of it.

[Florian]

Florian knew what Eitan was intending to do before he had done it. He knew, to be a proper teacher, he should have stopped him - but he didn't. It was this knowledge of Eitan's aims that he managed to have some semblance of control over his emotions. Violet would have flooded his eyes as Eitan drew his hands up his thighs if he did not keep that in mind, but he kept them blue. It was a fight, after all, and he had given him an opening.

He didn't allow himself to be pinned easily. He could not compete with his strength, but he had more control over the maneuver than he think Angevin realized. He told himself that he just wanted to see what he would do to a pinned opponent. How far he would take it — and, of course, if Florian himself would be able to wrestle himself out of the pin. It was practice for both of them.

Under Eitan's pin, Florian smiled. "Now what?" He asked, awfully cheeky compared to when he was in control. Some part of him felt more in control when he wasn't, but that made no fucking sense to him even as he felt it. At least being at the mercy of the Warden was one thing he was not afraid of. He squirmed a bit, testing the resistance of Angevin's hold. He had enough control over the act of being pinned that he was already comfortable where he lay. That was not enough for him to be able to escape, but he was certain he could puzzle that out.

"Now you could hit my face if you wanted," He offered. Eitan's weight wasn't enough to absolutely crush him, but he was heavier, bulkier. Where he'd been able to simply toss him off, that wasn't an option for the Lysanrin. He realized how important it was that he figure this out. He could be incapacitated easily if he weren't careful, and under someone bigger than him, he'd need to weasel his way out if he didn't want that to happen. Though he wasn't afraid of Angevin now, he knew what his job may eventually entail. "You have to be able to, at least. Even if we're friends. You have to be able to punch me or knock me out. You have to know my tricks. For the State." He hadn't stopped smiling. "You wouldn't be entrusted with me if you couldn't." He paused, and then as if he hadn't said that at all —

"You got me pinned because I let you. This is practice for me, too, and it's no good if I can't escape a pin from someone bigger than me, yeah?" He squirmed again as if to show that he was, indeed, trapped. "But I haven't figured it. Not yet, anyway."

[Eitan Angevin]

"I could hit you in the face," he agreed, "but I know you can take a punch. I won't learn anything from hitting you now. And I'll probably learn faster if you don't let me succeed where I wouldn't otherwise. Better to be cognizant of my skills than overestimate them and then fail when I need them most."

He rolled off of the private and leaned back onto his elbows. Anyway, he had an answer. He could pin Albrecht long enough to ward him from his own abilities. And that would put him at a significant disadvantage if he needed to be fully restrained or brought down. It wasn't happy knowledge, but he had learned something.

"Your eyes were hungry. Would you like to get something to eat?" Albrecht had been steadily drinking his water, so he doubted it was thirst that had so affected his eyes. His stomach hadn't growled complaints, but the Lysanrin had admitted other tells. Eventually, he would learn all of Albrecht's tells. The private would share them or he would learn them with time and experience. Eventually, he supposed he ought to ask if that was something that was true of all his kind, if there was a language of emotion there that was universal among them. Knowing one's enemy was important, and if Albrecht wasn't the enemy, his people certainly had been and might one day be again.

But Albrecht was right: he would have to always remember that he might be called upon to take care of the Lysanrin no matter whether he personally liked him or not. A threat to the State was a threat to the State. Watchers and officers of the Corps especially had to have steel will in order to make the difficult decisions that kept the peace.

[Florian]

Florian had eaten a suitable breakfast that morning, and though he was hungry, it wasn't for food. For the thrill of victory when he had pinned him down may have been a suitable lie, but he hadn't come up with it fast enough. He could get food and keep up the charade, of course, but if he only picked at his meal, Eitan would know something was wrong. A lie by omission, then. That would suffice.

"It's not always food." He stated. He was unsure if he'd elaborate further, or if any more questions would come. He propped himself up on his elbows, too, his head tilted towards Eitan. "Loyalty is a better motivator than fear. When men are scared, they're stupid." Florian knew he didn't have to lecture this man on leadership - he was in his position for a reason - but he meandered to his point anyway.

"I have since decided I don't fear you, and I'm not even sure I fear my own death. I anticipate it. My survival will be an exception. I do have one fear." Florian stood himself up and offered a hand out to Eitan. He knew that the man didn't need his help standing, but he wondered if he'd take it. As far as he had seen on the Noble Gambit, Commander Angevin was well-loved and well-feared by the crew. Florian was uniquely tied to him in a way the rest of the crew may not have been, and insofar as he was useful, he would continue to be. The question of how long he could be useful remained on his mind. The thought that he could ever sway Eitan to loyalty never crossed it.

He did not elaborate on his fear. "What carries you in a fight? Is it your loyalty to the State? Your loyalty to your men? Your loyalty to yourself?" Florian wondered if it were a question he had considered it all. It was not a question that he, himself, often thought of, but he knew the answer well. What carried his survival was his desperate desire to hold his fate in his hands and crumble it to dust. He so wanted to be destined for grand things, and in the face of a cruel world, he did not care if they were terrible.

"Unless you're hungry, want to try again? I won't let you pin me so easily this time. I want to see how you can stop me from hitting you."

[Eitan Angevin]

"Fear can be a rational response to threats," he reminded the Lysanrin. He accepted the help up, curious how much strength the slender man would put behind his help. In any case, he was up.

"But you have no need to fear me irrationally. You know how Zaichaer works, and I have been forthcoming with my assignment. I'm your XO and I'm your Watcher. I'm not an unreasonable man, nor a cruel one." After a pause, he pulled a sly smile. "So no fear, then. Let me know when you love me." He gave the small hand a squeeze and then let go.

"A bastard has to prove himself over and over and over again, to others, and to himself." He shrugged. "Driving myself to succeed has become a habit, now a trait. It is part of who I am. And I choose to work for the State."

Again, he dropped into his fighting stance, which was more suited for a swordfight than a brawl, but he tried to make the corrections from there that Albrecht had told him to make, going methodically through the steps until he felt it was as correct as it was going to get without more intervention from his horned instructor. He tried to settle into this stance and let his muscles grow accustomed to it. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, loosened up his shoulders. He might have looked like a boxer pepping himself up for a fight, but it was just a bit of movement away from that stance so that his body could return to it, get used to returning to it. He knew it was important to have a baseline.

"You'll have to let me know what you're hungry for, too."

He feinted for the face, but followed immediately with a strike to the chest. The sternum was centrally located and even if he missed, the chest was a big target and he ought to hit something.

[Florian]

It was not just a show of courtesy, it was help, as much as anyone would help someone. Florian kept watching Angevin, especially as he dropped into a decent approximation of the stance from earlier. Florian copied, and the room felt heavy with anticipation. Angevin was not the only one driven to succeed. He wondered if he appreciated his drive, if it had ever crossed the man's mind on how far he had to come to be in the position he was in now. He never considered that either of them had it harder than another. Both of their circumstances awarded different freedoms and took away others. Maybe Florian was freer without the burden of State and Family on his back. Perhaps Angevin was freer without the burden of others' fear that he did not command.

Of course, he punched first. Florian had not considered that he would go for the head after what had happened the first time, and his eyes flicked to the other fist, incoming at his chest. He did not have the reflexes to dodge it entirely, but he did manage to step to the side and avoid the center of his chest. He knew it would bruise, but he didn't worry about that. Florian smiled and stepped close to Eitan, his fist aimed for his stomach.

"What I'm hungry for?" He said between breaths, conscious on his attempt to will away his nervous energy. What did he have to be afraid of that he did not already have to be afraid of? Eitan added extra steps, but if he was going to show that he wasn't afraid of the man, maybe he'd have to tell the truth. Would he dare be so bold? Eitan could easily tell the Order that he wasn't fit for the experiment, that he wasn't fit for service in the ZADC. But if he wasn't afraid of this, wasn't afraid of death, there was no reason for him to tell anything but the truth.

As he brought his fist in, he inclined his head towards his, a smile still on his lips and his eyes murky indigo. "You."

[Eitan Angevin]

He supposed he would have to ask what indigo meant, but if Albrecht wasn't dissembling, he could figure it out by context. Though he didn't smile, he was pleased. First, he had scored a glancing blow on a better trained fighter, his feint counting for something, at least. Second, it appeared that the Lysanrin was figuring out how to play this game, where anything could be used to distract an opponent. Third, if he was hungry for his XO, then it was another hook. If he couldn't be feared, he could be loved—or at least lusted after.

Whether Albrecht meant to signal that he was going for a gut shot, Angevin didn't know. But he saw it before he spoke, and then the Lysanrin dropped his theatrical one-liner, so by the time the blow was coming, Angevin was able to tighten up his stomach to take it, and bring his forehead down to pop him in the scarred nose. He didn't hear a crack, which was good. He didn't want to actually damage the private, especially not in training and when they were trying to develop their rapport. But it was enough to stun him, make his eyes water, and his guard fall.

That gave Angevin enough of a warning to see how far Albrecht was willing to take this play. He shoved him back against the warded wall, his palms making a double don sound on either side of his horned head. But he didn't touch his cheek; he ducked his head down and claimed his mouth with his own.

Ashen lips were surprisingly sweet, though it wasn't long before his lips felt hot and wet, the coppery taste of blood mingling with it all. Ah, well, he thought. He wasn't going to lose this game of chicken.

[Florian]

Florian closed his eyes from the shock of pain in his face. He knew nothing was broken, but it hurt, and before he had any time to recover, he was against the wall. His mind tried to scrape together what had happened - bloody nose, battered knuckles, and the lips of the man he'd wanted to kiss for days pressed against his own. The Lysanrin knew this was still a part of the spar, as much as any punch or headbutt or pin had been.

This didn't prevent him from kissing back. Even if it were all a part of a game, he didn't mind his participation. One hand snaked up behind Eitan's head, the other on his shoulder. He wasn't sure what he was doing - even as he tried to focus, his eyes were closed and he wondered if Angevin knew he meant it. He meant it. Florian didn't break the kiss, even as his own blood infiltrated their lips.

If anything, this meant that Eitan had won. Florian had hardly expected this reaction, but he was going to take advantage of it while it lasted. How long it lasted was up to him, caged between his arms as he was, but even as the pain in his nose smarted, he kissed back with enthusiasm. Just boys being boys, after all. He could already imagine the mess of blood that they would both be left with, but he didn't care. He'd wanted this kiss for days.

Florian's fingers ran through his hair, and he deigned to push his face even closer to his. Maybe this meant that he'd won, instead. He got what he wanted out of such an admission, after all, but his cursed himself for his inability to read Angevin. He opened his eyes for a moment, full knowledge that indigo had made way for violet and that his mood was on full display if Angevin looked. However the situation may backfire, at that moment, he didn't care.