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[b]"Haha, and I hope you remember your words when you're outduelled by a Rider without his mount,"[/b] Gawain snapped back, his longsword flickering out to meet Diarmuid's. Silver clashed with gold, a steady stream of cuts and parries exchanged between the two knights under the unamused eyes of Gringolet. Divorced from supernatural powers and murderous intent, swordplay was mathematical and predictable, each swing and thrust leading into each other. A duel to protect one's honor spawned unorthodox technique, but a duel for entertainment's sake was simply that: Gawain may show off by switching to his offhand, doing a spinning strike, or bending over backwards for an inordinately inefficient dodge, but both sides were playful, dancing to the music of ringing steel.

[b]"By the way,"[/b] Gawain said, breaking the silence of several minutes of duelling, [b]"Don't suppose you have a way of turning off your mole, Diarmuid? I think my fellow Heroic Spirits will be fine, but it'd be basically more awkward if the Master ended up falling for you. 'specially if we're gonna be working together n all. Chaldea's got quite a few ladies in it, y'see."[/b]