Detraeus eyed Casseth as he talked. He wasn’t personally surprised that they hadn’t encountered, or noticed, each other — he may well have seen the hybrid boy in passing without even glancing twice, since he hadn’t been on the lookout for him — and he himself largely kept himself well covered, despite the desert heat. The markings branded on him since early childhood were not a thing he felt comfortable yet sharing with the world.

But allowed, Detraeus said nothing, made mental note of Casseth’s instructions, and simply nodded. Whatever the hybrid’s intentions, genuine or stilted, he had not meant his own words as anything but the truth. Training with another would benefit him, and he wasn’t about to waste the opportunity. Thus, they parted ways in peace, and even on amicable terms.

It turned out, over the following weeks, that Casseth, too, had been sincerely interested, and as they practiced more together it became a habit. It gave Detraeus an opportunity to fine-tune his close-range fighting style, something he had always been lacking in. Casseth helped remind him — through his attacks as much as anything else — to keep up his defenses, and not be hesitant to get in close. Casseth learned to better work without his magic, a handicap that — while generally always available — was good to practice without and help him make up for the gaps in his fighting style that his gaili affinity naturally compensated for.

By the end of several months, their working together was such a habit, that Detraeus found himself uncharacteristically at ease in Casseth’s presence, as if the hybrid’s positive energy was infectious and had managed, over time, to gradually seep into Detraeus’ attitude towards him. He could almost, hesitant as he was to admit it, call the boy a friend. If a strange one.