WILL
Everyone walks in front of us now, a long cavern meant that Nico didn't have to navigate as much, and could fall to the rear.
Nico walks with his sword out, swinging it around causally, like it's an extension to his arm. I walk beside him, a little distance between us so the sword doesn't cut me. As much as I trust him not to hit me, big swords still freak me out.
He swings it a little close to me, and I stumble. He stops instantly, the swishing noise it was making halting.
'Sorry.' He says, 'I wouldn't hit you.'
'I know, it's just reflex.' I say.
'So was the swinging.' He replies, 'I'll stop.'
'Can I have a sword?' I ask, abruptly.
'What?' He says, stopping in his tracks and turning to me. He's smiling slightly.
'I want a sword.'
'Why do you want a sword?' He asks, 'aren't you a plagiarist?
'Pacifist. And no.' I say, 'well sort of. But I can defend myself.'
'I thought you didn't like using my sword.' He says, holding it out as we continue to walk.
'Oh yeah, I hate your one.' I say, and he narrows his eyebrows, 'I mean, I hate using it. You obviously look great using it.' He rolls his eyes.
'Why do you want a sword then?' He asks.
'Like the small one you used. On the Minotaur.' I say.
'Oh, so you want a dagger.' He says, taking it out from by his ankle. I watch as he casually flips it in his hand. He wipes the blade on his sleeve and hands it to me, 'you can have this one.'
'Don't you need it?' I ask.
'Daggers are everywhere down here. And that one's just your standard metal. Nothing fancy. If you like using it I can get you a better one when we're done here.' He says, 'take it.'
I take it from him, and handle it gently. It feels odd holding it, but definitely more natural than a sword.
'You like it?'
'I think so.'
'Why don't you ever use a bow and arrow?' He asks, 'if that's your dad's thing. Surely you'd pick it up easier.'
'I've never actually tried. The fighting thing never really interested me like the healing. It was always clear that was what I was meant to do. Not fight.' I say.
'I remember I tried to teach myself. I think it's actually my least favourite way of fighting; I can't aim, I can't sit still. I'm hopeless.' He says, and then looks to the dagger he gave me, 'but I think this suits you.'
'You think it suits me?' I ask.
'I do.' He says, and then turns serious, 'but it's a last resort. Don't go thinking you can get into a fight now. This is a last resort.'
'Last resort.' I echo, 'deal.'
