[Oh, that doesn't sound like Fenris— though on the other hand, perhaps it isn't so far from the truth as it sounds. It's not as if the other boy is a saint; he can be plenty obnoxious (plenty vicious) when he wants to be. It doesn't take the largest leap of the imagination to picture Fenris bragging like that, whether out of defensiveness or sheer bravado.

His chin rests in his palm again, and while none of the disappointed air has left his expression, he is genuinely asking. Gods, it's going to be a long night piecing together the fragmented facts of this fight with Zevlor.]

And what were you telling him, exactly? That you wanted to practice? That you knew what you were doing?

Or that you wanted to kiss him?