His knife found flesh, his fist did not. Yet, at the order to stop, he froze mid-motion and remained poised for the next set of orders that would release him from standing so close to this weapon. He was barely winded, but his limbs slowly returned to his sides even of his leg remained pressing warm and solid against the now injured one of the other weapon. There was a potent silence that fell over them, all eyes on them as they stood so close.

He lifted his blue eyes to the other weapon and saw sign of pain, and while he was generally immune to the suffering of others, there was something that tugged at him at the sight of it on his man. He lifted metal fingers between where they stood, the cold digits caressing in a foreign gentleness the other man's cheek. He had showcased his skills, yet why was there a sinking sensation like falling in his stomach?

He stood for the examination, but aside from bruising, he had escaped their exercise with almost no injury. The other weapon was not so lucky, and he only stepped away when urged to so that the other weapon could be properly assessed. His flesh fingers caressed the edge of the shield, blue eyes watchful of the other man, waiting for instructions but a part of him straining to shift to bear some of the other weapon's weight. Not yet. Soon.