Walking out of the barracks, I saw Lance and Leah already about two blocks ahead of me in the streets of New Rome. The "mature" twins I know them to be, one undoubtedly challenged the other to a race, which was immediately accepted. Watching the sun slowly begin to crest the hill that formed the eastern boundary of Camp Jupiter, i thought, I don't understand their rush. If they would just low down for once, they might see why I actually hate sleeping in the barracks. Gods, I wish there were more trees in this camp. I stayed locked in thought like this for the rest of my trek to the showers. I probably would've continued walking right past them if Lance hadn't grabbed me and roughly pulled me into the locker room.

Ok, mild confession time: there aren't any showers, just communal baths, quite possibly my least favorite thing about this whole camp. It's so unsanitary, especially for the people who take later baths. I'd say you might as well bathe in the river, but at least in the river your dirt and grime get carried away. In the baths, it just stays there until it's drained. Really, it's the only reason that I wake up as early as I do anymore (I know I'm never going to not see insults when I wake up), clean bath water and an empty locker room. Despite the reputation for discipline Rome has, if there is one thing a few of my scouting missions have taught me, it's that a locker room of teenage males with fewer brain cells than muscles is the same around the world, or at least the San Francisco Bay Area. Settling for the more modest approach, I strip down to my underwear, grab a towel, and walk out to the bath to see Lance sitting in the bath, presumably waiting for me so we can get each other's backs. I also see that he opted for the less modest approach, his boxers laying atop his towel. Inwardly, I sigh. Outwardly, I just drop my towel next to his, and get in the water, resolving to be out first.

As I step in, the warm water slowly relaxes me, easing out the stiffness from my bad night of sleep. By the time the water is up to my neck, my eyes are closed in the simple bliss of relaxation.

SPLASH!

Well, so much for relaxation, I thought, my head now dripping with water from Lance's antics. I hadn't even noticed him climb out of the bath, let alone get the running start for his cannonball. As Lance surfaced, I fixed him with the most menacing glare a mostly naked, dripping wet twelve-year-old can give to someone substantially bigger and stronger. Suffice it to say, Lance could barely contain his laughter.

"Dude, lighten up, I'm just having some fun," Lance said, still trying not to laugh as I was still glaring, "You're acting like a real killjoy."

"Lance, this is a bath, not a pool. As such, it is not our playground just because we're the only ones in it. Now, will you please hand me that bottle of shampoo?" I asked, pointing past him to the ever present hygiene product in question.

"Yeah, sure," he responded, quickly swimming over to the other side of the large bath and back. He quickly squirted some into his hand before handing me the bottle. Repeating Lance's process, I recapped the bottle with my chin and set it on the edge of the bath. As I began to lather up, Lance smirked at me and said, "Don't forget to get behind your knife ears."

Ok, quick stock. The pros and cons of punching Lance: pros include possibly hurting him and thus shutting him up. Cons include definitely hurting myself, and probable retaliation from Lance. Fuck it. My left arm lashes out quickly, connecting solidly with Lance's right. Ow, that hurt. I really hate being right all the time. Rubbing my knuckles, I look over to see Lance looking at me as if to say, "Really?"

"Really?-"

Hey, right again.

"- Man, Xander, you really need to hit the gym if you hurt yourself more than me when you punch. I would think that all that time you spend twirling your pole around would build some muscle." As if to further stress his point, he punched me in the arm, to which my only thought was, And I'm right again. I need to pay attention to my pros and cons lists if I'm going to take the time to make them. "I mean, the thing is six feet long and pure Stygian Iron. I'm honestly amazed you can even pick the thing up."

"Yeah, yeah. Be quiet and get my back for me, will you?" I say, turning my back to him. "And I will have you know that I have plenty of muscle from my practice with my staff, and could probably go through all of my drills with it for three hours straight."

"What drills?" Lance asked, scrubbing my back. Dear Gods, I could hear the confused look on his face. This boy is too stupid to function, and yet here he is. Raising my eyes to the sky, I think, Ok, I already knew you were up there. I don't need you performing miracles to prove it.

Turning around and signaling for Lance to do the same, I say, "My drills, Lance. That thing I usually do end up doing at least three hours a day. What you called 'twirling my pole' and, knowing you, have probably also referred to it as pole dancing when people ask what I'm doing."

"Hey!" he exclaims, indignantly, "I only do that when Leah asks, and only when no one else is around. And trust me, if you could see yourself, you would probably call it dancing, too. It just happens to be pole dancing because it's with a pole."

"Do I even want to know how my drills qualify as dancing in your eyes?"

"Because, Xander, anytime you aren't fighting, you seem scrawny and awkward, but when you are, even if it's just against a bunch of dummies, you seem lithe and graceful. You have no wasted motion, and every action flows smoothly from one into the other. Plus, you have all these flips and rolls and bends and twists, put a girl in your hands and she would be all over you by the end of the night. You know, if you could get past the awkwardness of being alone and dancing with a girl."

By his second to last sentence, I was just sitting there in the bath, frozen, slack-jawed with surprise, and blushing from his description of my practices. His last sentence broke me out of my daze, and I paused just long enough to think, What part of I don't need you performing miracles didn't you get? That thought completed, I playfully smacked Lance on the back of his head.

"That was for the 'girl' comment. I would have no troubles getting past my alleged awkwardness, the trouble is that there is probably no girl in New Rome who would want to dance with me. Everybody hates Pluto's children, remember?"

"Not ev-"

"Are you two ladies done getting your manicures, or am I gonna have to come in there and drag you two to sword practice naked?" Leah yelled.

At this, Lance and I are both scrambling out of the bath, not particularly desiring to be dragged through New Rome naked. We quickly dry ourselves off and run into the locker room, shooing Leah out so that we can get dressed. We exit the locker room within the minute, and head off to the fighting pit, Lance challenging Leah to yet another race, myself opting to trail behind and enjoy the slight breeze of the early morning and think.

This day, it just feels so weird. Lance said two smart things within the span of an hour, and has yet to break anything. And I almost forgot about Caius. What was with him and his gang today? I know they usually look like they're up to something, but that look he gave me before I left the barracks, it's like he knows something. I am pulled out of my reverie by twin cries of, "Hurry up, Xander! If you're late, you'll be partnered with the instructor again." Shit, that's right. The instructor, also praetor of New Rome, Reyna Arellano-Ramirez. She is one scary lady, and brutal with a sword. I would go so far as to call her pretty if I wasn't afraid she would snap me in half for making a comment that had nothing to do with swordplay.

Putting on a burst of speed, I sprint past both Lance and Leah, heading towards the fighting pit. I keep this up most of the way there, and when the entrance is in sight, I look back to taunt them, but whatever I was about to say gets caught in my throat after colliding with someone, both of us falling to the ground. I turn to apologize to whoever it was and am met with the frightening sight of an angry Reyna.

"I-I-I-I'm so-so sorry, Lady Reyna. I didn't mean to run into you, I-I-I was just trying to-" I attempt to stammer out.

"Save it, Grey. Get into the pit, grab a weapon, and get ready to practice. You get to spar with me again, and after, you can have the added pleasure of polishing the weapons, and doing one hundred push ups and sit ups," she said angrily, as she picks herself up off the ground.

"Y-y-yes ma'am. Of course." I hurriedly get up and half walk, half run into the fighting pit.

"Oh, and Grey?" Reyna calls after me.

I turn back to her, just waiting for her to finish.

"No armor today. Just you and your staff versus me and my sword."

Shit.

A/N: I did not intend for so much of this chapter to be a discussion between two guys in an overgrown bathtub, and actually was hoping to get into the actual sparring between Xander and Reyna, not just that little whatever you would call that at the end there. In all honesty, none of this stuff is planned, I just sit down and start writing. Anyways, if you've read this far, could you please just go that little extra mile and review? I would like to know the thoughts of anyone reading this on what's good, what's bad, and what I can do to fix the bad. Please and thank you.

-All Times Pass