At those words, Volstagg, who had lowered his head to gnaw on his jerky again, abruptly froze.
He lifted his large, stubbled face and mumbled through a mouthful, "Did I hear that right? A sorcerer from Midgard wants to learn close-quarters combat from our goddess of war?"
Beside him, Fandral was even more amused.
He swept the blond hair beside his ear back, curled his lips, and raised an eyebrow at Sif. "Hear that, Sif? The great hero himself is asking for instruction. With Thor away, surely you, the greatest warrior after Thor, can't refuse?"
Hogun folded his arms across his chest and said coolly, "There's nothing wrong with a sorcerer learning to fight. There are always times on the battlefield when divine power runs dry."
"Hogun knows his stuff."
Lucian answered casually. Learning techniques was just an excuse to make legitimate physical contact.
If he walked right up and touched the female warrior, even the boisterous Asgardians would probably take him for a creep with ill intentions.
Exchanging a few blows under the pretext of sparring would let him reap the benefits while appearing humble and eager to learn. Why not?
Sif put away the casualty roster in her hands and passed it to the messenger beside her.
She looked up and studied Lucian, a little surprise in her eyes, but even more of a warrior's easy frankness.
"If you're interested, Sir Lucian, I'd be happy to oblige."
Sif pressed a hand against the sword at her waist, turned, and pointed toward the street corner. "The training ground isn't far. The engineers are clearing rubble here, so let's trade a few moves over there rather than damage the street they've just repaired."
"I'll follow your lead." Lucian raised a hand.
The Warriors Three immediately perked up.
Volstagg stuffed the