Welcome to Gaia! ::

"Ohyes!" the idea dawned on him, and he reached back into the box, fishing down at the bottom, bringing out a thin piece of shaped plastic. "I had ALMOST wondered why they included this with the package until I thought about you" He chuckled.

"Here you are!" He handed that to her as well, "Feel free to use the restroom if you''d like to change."

Ambrose happily obliged, securing her in the vest, and then put on his own gloves, careful to tuck them into the sleeves of the vest. picking up the mask and an epee he gestured to the door.

"And, even better - the weather appears to have cleared! Where would you like to practice?"

"Sounds perfect" He agreed, grabbing his own things and two bottles of water from the minifridge, and headed after her.

"Thank you so much, Greer - I can't tell you how much I've been looking forward to this, and to trying my hand at a new opponent" He smiled, smoothing back his hair as he put the mask on. THe only downside, he realized soon after, to the weather clearing after the rain was the immense humidity. That combined with the long-sleeved jacket and boxy mask that despite the mesh of the metal in the front was quite effective at trapping his hot breath.

With the tight, almost already sweaty clothing, the itchiness started to rear its head again. Muttering a grumble, and not willing to delay fencing for an itch, he picked up the epee, saluted, and dropped into stance.

Ambrose nodded, not about to take advantage of the woman with an unfamiliar weapon, he waited until her salute, and slowly advanced.

She could probably tell, right off the bat, that his stance and footwork were quite adept - almost instinctual. He had been doing this for quite a long time and it showed in his precision. He kept his blade solidly and confidently pointed towards the upper part of her chest, not weaving it around or trying distractions that usually only resulted in the exposure of an opening.

But he hesitated on the initial attack, keeping himself at ready and waiting for her to go first, playing the defensive.

Ambrose was instinctively sizing her up as she approached, keeping his eyes on hers, leting his peripheral vision note her confident footwork and higher guard. Her eyes would probably tell him long before her blade when an attack was coming.

He didnt' falter or step back, as he saw her shift ever so slightly her focus on his own right arm. He would have played the defensive, however, instinct and the outlet that fencing was for his emotions usually played him as more of an offensive fighter. Once he determined that she had no qualms at letting him go first, despite attempting to go easy on her, he slid his blade in a tight, clockwise circular motion, hoping to slide her blade to the outside to allow for him to get a clean strike towards her midsection. It was a simple starting move, but a good one to initiate the obligatory exchange of strikes and parries.

He took a small step backwards at the counterattack, and brought his blade horizontally across his body to parry her cross-attack further outwards to his left hopefully leaving her open. Then, quickly, he angled the blade back towards her chest, delivering a back-handed strike towards her center.

Ambrose, whether she noticed initially or not, was keeping his strikes primarily center-of body, a range she would be more comfortable in defending given her style of fighting. While perfectly comfortable with the diveristy and range of the epee, he wasn't sure how in practice she was and wanted to ease her into the style.

All the while, he kept his eyes steeled on hers, watching her, reading her. The mask that he tended to wear in life was, for the time being, even more sturdy in the match.

Ambrose saluted as they returned to ready-stance. She certainly had talent - and definately made for a fair sparring partner. He knew he had advantages over her that almost made him feel guilty - but the exhilaration of not just having to do point-control and footwork drills but actually spar was more than enough to give him patience with her and overcome some of the chilvalrous "tsk"-ing about this not quite being a fair match.

He reset and went back in - vigilant and slowing himself down a bit. He could tell that she was unused to the weight and style of the blade. He made several other exchanges, getting caught up in the wonderful feel of being back in practice. He needed this physical release of stress. Swimming the other day had been grand, but nothing like this.

Despite the feverishness, his muscles still felt so wonderful - finding it easy to remain in stance, his reaction times quicker than he could consciously recall. The boxy-headedness that the mask usually gave him as well as the fever seemed to be fading to the background. His steely mask was breaking as well - and he didn't care - the exhilarion showing on his face.

While certainly skilled, he was also not perfect and Greer would have managed to get in several fair strikes against him. And as he worked, he slowly began to expand on the areas he targeted against her.

However, after a good 20 minutes or so, the heat under the mask and jacket, combined with the sweat started to really bring the itchiness back to the forefront of his mind - intervening even in front of his focus. His strikes were faltering, and his off-hand even was edging closer to his body. Between exchanges, he took advantage of the break to make some frenetic itching through the vest.

Ambrose stumbled with the thwacking, muffling a surprised exclamation, reminding himself of her normal bladed style. Catching himself back on balance, he nodded and held up a hand. His heart was pumping, his muscles were limber, and he felt good - if it wasn't for the sweltering heat!

Tearing off his mask he took a deep breath of the humid air and watched a pretty black and green butterfly flit by, taking the oppotunity to itch like mad on his chest. Dear lord it was getting worse!

"No, no. It's perfectly fine" he panted. "I think that's probably a wonderful match for today. Why don't you go ahead and hang onto that set of gear. We can meet up again some other time." He grinned "and you can practice with the epee if you like on your own time as well. Course, I don't want you to deviate too much from your own style... it might be awkward when you switch back".