Stavanger Bay rather have been killed by that beast than be saved by a half-breed

Wanna spree a spar?

Someday, yes.

But he was curious of her abilities. Her admittance made him smile; or what passed as a smile, something well contoured across his face, and he ducked his head as if to nod thoughtfully. If she were truly a warrior then she would be eager to prove it, and as Skellige had yet to give either of them true duties - aside from guarding the sand upon which they had made their camp - there was time for sport and competition.

This was what he would propose, but he did not do it with words.

The boy chose instead to slip close to her, his spine bristling, and snapped his teeth very close to her; not grabbing as he perhaps could have, but purposefully missing, and then ducking his shoulders and head down as if in a play bow, as he had seen many children do while he had been growing up. It was not something he had ever been given instruction nor permission to do, but it was the only natural way he could think of to invite her to spar, lest she take his sudden assault as a true attack. He lurched to one side then, wincing slightly from the pressure of his bones as they took the brunt of his oddly angular positioning, and nipped at the air again, this time closer to her.