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"They don't look worthless to me. But I'm sure they do in the eyes of... well. Someone." Quiet Al, your ignorance is showing. "I don't intend to quietly and mysteriously disappear."

"And," Al raised a brow at Jordan. "I don't have my eye on anyone really.... well.. wait. There is this one girl who keeps calling me handsome~ I like that." He flushed a little. "Why do they talk like that anyway? Not like all of their experiences will be the same. Especially outside of a match."

"That's different. I don't think she has many female friends and I'd roll my eyes if a strange dude told me that." He gently elbowed Jordan in the side. "Besides. If a woman's put off by me making third place out of all the trainees then she is no one I want to get physical with." He offered a broad eager smile as explanation.

"Maybe it'll make her feel better to watch us spar? You and me. It's no question there who would win. Maybe that'll satisfy her desire to see me suffer?" He looked hopeful. Because <********>. He didn't even notice she was a sun. Bad news.

Taym tried not to grin. He hadn't been there, he didn't know what had transpired; all he knew was that the idea of someone bodily picking her up was inexplicably funny, devoid of context. Maybe he'd have felt differently with more information.

"That seems... unsportsmanlike," he conceded, straight-faced and sympathetic. An awkward pat on the shoulder. "You're going to have to learn to fight dirty, apparently. Almost turned the tide in your favor this time." An inward cringe of sympathy for Al, although, he felt, it had at least been deserved.

Absently, he ruffled her hair. Condescending gestures were easier. "Good work," he said, sudden and sincere. "Really. Did your division proud, I'm sure. Even fought fair."