fandomtownies | The Park on Thursday

It was Thursday and it was Valentine's Day and since she had blown off class on Monday she was blowing off her office hours as well. She'd asked some of the sword boys to come to the park and show off for her and at least two had definitely agreed and one more might show his ass up if he got his lazy bum out of bed in time. She'd banged on a few doors on Floor Four and loudly announced where she was going and why as an invitation of sorts.

She'd hit up Kanan's warehouse and borrowed an armful of his practice swords both metal and bamboo by stuffing them into a duffel bag. For a value of 'borrowed' that meant she hadn't asked but she totally meant to return them before he noticed they were gone. Eh. He was going to be busy today anyway. An item in his warehouse made her snicker quite a bit but she wasn't mean enough to spoil that surprise so she left it alone.

A stop by the Perk to collect a party-sized container of coffee and some cups saw her with enough caffeine to share and then she was off to the park. The practice swords were set out. She parked her ass on a bench with her first coffee of the day and waited. Relaxing back against the bench and enjoying the weather and sunshine.

It was going to be a great day. She could just tell.

[Open! If you think you heard her this morning you definitely did and also open to anyone heading by or through the park. Sword boys gonna sword for her amusement and education.]

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"It does seem to be a popular choice," Liam agreed. "I fence," he added with a shrug, "but usually for sport, I don't make a habit of using a sword in regular combat."

"Fencing's the thing with the really long knitting-needle looking fuckers?" Jack inquired.

"Foils or epees, yeah," Liam nodded. "I use a sabre, which has a bit more substance to it."

"Well sure. Way more sword and a curve," Jack agreed.

Wrong kind of saber there, girlfriend.

"A fencing sabre's more like..." he glanced at the pile of practice swords, rummaging through it until he found one with a long, thin blade "This."

So... an actual edge that could be used for slicing, but still pretty light.

Jack made a face. "Why?"

Liam shrugged. "It's good exercise." Even if he gave the holographic training program the digital equivalent of an aneurysm every time he practiced. "And believe it or not, it has come in handy a time or two in a real fight."

"But why not some fucking thing with more weight behind it?" Skinny swords made little sense.

"Easier to sneak past most security systems."

Especially when you used a ceramic blade.

"See now that's the first fucking reason makes any goddamn sense," Jack complained.

"I'd make a crack about you seeing my point, but I try to avoid making bad jokes when surrounded by weapons," Liam grinned.

Not entirely true; he made terrible jokes around Verity all the time, but that was different.

"That means I'm exempt from bad fucking jokes forever?" Jack smirked. Since she was a weapon.

... Honestly, who on this island wasn't?

"At least until I get tired of holding back, anyway."

Jack gave a fake put-upon sigh. "That'll take less than five minutes. I've met your type before, Liam."

Garrus.

"Oh, I'm a type now, hmm?" Liam said with a snicker.

Jack bobbed her head, "Oh yes. Very much a fucking type, Liam. We can't ever let you meet at least one member of my crew or you'll create some fucking human/Turian symbiotic organism and the world will not be fucking having that."

You were missing at least one species in there, Jack. Not that you knew that.

"Sounds like a you problem, not a me problem," Liam observed drily.

"That's because you would be my problem," Jack responded just as dryly.

"Yeah, well," Liam shrugged. "There's worse problems to have." Probably.

"A cop who thinks bad dad jokes are funny's kind of at the top of my fucking list here, Liam," Jack drawled.

Not really. Liam wasn't so bad.

"What makes it a dad joke as opposed to just a regular bad joke?" he wondered.

"The person telling it thinks he's a funny motherfucker," Jack deadpanned at him.

"... Doesn't that apply to all jokes?" He was genuinely curious now.

'Dad jokes' were unfamiliar territory, after all. His father's idea of a joke had been to send him in to a life-or-death situation with a faulty weapon.

"Go back and take my comment a little more literally than you just did," Jack drawled. "It was funny. I'll wait."

"See, now who's making bad jokes?"

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