"...What's that look for?" Sol asked.
He smiled, "How about some sparring?"
Sol seemed hesitant, almost instantly moving his lips to say "No" but stopped himself and begrudgingly nodded.
With that, the two left the room and headed to the basement, where they would be able to train without making noise that would alert prowling entities on the streets.
Once they were in the dank, barely lit room that was filled with old, discarded crates of booze and grime, they equipped the wooden versions of their weapons.
"I guess…It has been helpful, honestly. And I need it," Sol said.
"Mhm," he straightened his coat and tightened his gauntlets, "If anything, it's going to help you become less scared of being hit."
He playfully flipped the wooden daggers in his hands as he stood several meters across from Sol, who hesitantly readied his wood spear as well.
"Ready?" He asked.
"Guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Sol gulped.