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Peyton danced out of arms reach as he's head snapped back and a string of Spanish curses filled the air like so much sweet music. She was grinning at him as his attention snapped back to her, cocky and challenging. Full lips pulling up to one side in a wicked little smirk.

She was ready for him as he came at her again, or so she thought as she watched the incoming swing of those obsidian blades. But the follow through was wrong. The momentum shifting. Pale eyes blinked as his entire stance seemed to shift, and it wasn't the blades that connected with her thigh, but the heavy wooden pummel. A solid strike to the meat of her muscle, and it made her stagger.

<He fights dirty.>

He said he would.

<Even still.>

The dainty Sun had to agree. It'd been a while since she faced someone that exploited each and every available opening to them. It took a certain amount of creativity, ruthlessness, and some manner of desperation. Kade wanted to win. Badly.

<Are you hoping to lose?>

No.

<Liar>

I'm not letting him win.

<But you won't take it to hard if he does.>

And to that there was nothing she could really say, so she said nothing at all. Instead she turned her attention from the internal conversation and back on the fight.

The summoning had been on defensive instinct rather than actual necessity, her hand tingled with the impact, the strength of the blow shooting up her arm and into her shoulder, and she had to give the trainee credit for his strength. It was impressive, to say the least. But she knew, as the sting of it faded from her arm and her hand, that even if she could have turned the fight in her favor, she had certainly lost the bet.

<You're not even upset over it,> Warrick murmured, amused.

She blinked, thin chest rising and falling breathlessly, and rolled her eyes up to meet his. Their weapons still linked, tension still singing through their arms. There was a momentary temptation to push back. Bet be damned, she could have taken him down, and there was a part of her, a very large part, that wanted t prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

The dagger disappeared as she took a step back. "I suppose it does." Her voice was careful, giving away very little, and as she moved to walk past him to retrieve her phone she smiled up at him. "God, we're filthy." Dirt, sweat, and even a little blood.

Not at all certain what he was going to do, Peyton tensed when he pulled her in close, and a hand had lifted to rest in the center of his chest before the tips of slender fingers slid down across his stomach to catch at the buckle of his belt. Resting there for a moment.

Of all the things, it hadn't been a kiss on the cheek that she'd been expected, but it wasn't unwelcome. The juxtaposition of that sudden tenderness against the absolutely ruthless why they'd just been going at each other left her smiling, and she'd lean in so her slight weight was resting against his tall figure.

"I suppose," she relented, drawing the vowels out in a sing-song way. Really, he hadn't needed to resort to the puppy-dog eyes. She'd been about to suggest they clean up a bit. For as much as Peyton lived for the thrill of a goof fight, she hated the way dirty and sweat clung so heavily to the sink.

Straightening, she'd tuck a finger between belt and jeans as she turned towards the dorms, and gave a little tug. "Come on, then."