Firo smiles. "Thanks." His life with the Martillos was pretty good and has gone a long way towards softening him up, but he'll never completely lose his survival instincts. And foremost among them is hiding any sign of weakness. Besides, even if the Martillos are decent guys, that doesn't extend to all of the people they deal with.

He takes the sword, nodding his gratitude as he adjusts his grip. Like with the wooden sword, his first few strikes are slow and cautious--and more clumsy than he'd like. This time, he picks up the pace sooner.

"How long've you been usin' these things?"