Note: I forgot to begin this story arc with a timeframe. Since that information is important to this post, I’ll now state that this takes place in . . .
October. The third Tuesday.
Rex turned, shaking his head as he walked back to the end of the line. Annie stepped forward, crouched into en garde position in front of Miles.
“Ah!” Miles exclamation jabbed at Annie. “The usurper!”
Annie tilted her head, her face questioning behind her gray metal mask. She heard Double-J grunt behind her as Miles continued. “Little girl, judging by the size of your feet, you’re going to need some newspaper to stuff the shoes you’re trying to fill.”
Annie shot back her reply. “Foot size doesn’t matter. It’s what you do with them that counts.”
Miles laughed, crouched down into en garde position. “We’re not in ballet class any more, little girl, and this isn’t Gandy’s gym.” He extended his foil at Annie. “Let’s see if you can dance your way past three feeet of steel.”
Annie growled, launched herself at Miles. He deftly parried, his riposte fast and firm, and counter-parried by Annie. She attempted to riposte, but Miles swung his blade hard and to the right, overpowering Annie, who grunted in disgust as Miles forced the tip of his weapon onto Annie’s belly.
Annie stepped back, laughed, teased her response — “Bully!”
Miles nodded. “Every opponent’s a bully. They look for your weakness, then exploit it unmercifully. You’re fast, skilled, but there’s no meat on your upper body. If you want to survive in tournaments, start doing pushups. Next!”