WHO: Barrow, Fifi, Benedict? and you
WHAT: March catch-all
WHEN: whatever this month is called
WHERE: hither and thither
NOTES: slowly piecing this together, if you want a bespoke starter please yell at me in some form
[watch this space for open prompts I promise they'll happen]
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-strange. To imagine that people here think he has more value than just the way he can twist, turn, and jump.
"I've seen you about."
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The smile reappears on Barrow's face, and it's quite clear by the way his posture remains relaxed that he is not actually concerned about how noble or manly his activities were.
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"Are you watching for reason?"
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"I make myself available for weapons training," he explains, gesturing back toward his little pavilion, "upon request. Some recruits show up having never held a blade in their lives."
He scratches at the stubble on his cheek, still smiling pleasantly.
"Hope you don't mind my saying so, but we could use a quick hand like yours for the more advanced sorts. Teaching, sparring, the like. Whatever you've time for."
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He looks to the side, and then back forward. "I could help." He's joined this organization, so he may as well do what he needs to do.
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"Glad to have you here."
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But he gets the point.
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"Let me know if you need anything. We've got the practice weapons over there," he nods back to the pavilion setup, "and, you know. First aid things."
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"Mm?" he intones, like he isn't quite sure what Gannicus is asking.
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"Strange," Barrow clarifies. "His name is Strange."
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"--yes, he's a Rifter."
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"It's his name," he clarifies, "Stephen Strange."
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He sighs. "Rifters."
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