"Hey, shut the fuck up about tactical advantages and how you're better than me." The mouth on this guy, talking like some big shot. Looks like a boring rank and file soldier in some other man's army. Oh, wait. Familiar. Can't really judge people on being rank and file. Flint grimaced, lighting his hands up with intense flames. "I'm in no mood for some punk ass who thinks that because he's got a big sword that he's talented enough to kill me. Tactical advantages don't mean shit at the boiling point of carbon." 

"If you think your big sword, which is probably made out of iron, can even touch me. Go ahead, swing it. I'm tougher than steel, baby!" Okay, maybe not tougher than steel. But at least hot enough to heat it to near boiling point. For a moment, Flint actually forgot the words that he was gonna say next. His flames dimmed for a moment and the feathers that adorn his body all wilted slightly. The flame and feathers popped back up once he remembered his line. "Oh, and I'm closer to a bird than I am to a dog. You filthy ape-kin."