Jaune's fought hard to get to this moment. Going behind his father's back to access shady dealers and get the proper forged paperwork done, avoiding his snoopy older brother Roman as much as possible, sneaking his sword and shield out of the armory, pilfering the necessary survival tools from around the house, and sneaking into Menagerie. Staying undercover had originally been part of the plan. Puking up his guts had not.

Still, even with that particular failure, just being able to sit here in the grand auditorium of Zodiac Academy is a success. Sitting in the second row, however, just a couple feet away from the intimidating Headmistress Goodwitch as she gives the most boring, longest-winded speech of all time, is not how Jaune would have imagined celebrating. Plus her voice is right at that perfect timbre that lulls one to sleep, and for some reason, he keeps having the same daydream about fried chicken and gravy.

{No offense, Weiss.}

"…must explicitly state that our enemy is no longer humankind, but rather the monsters of Grimm that threaten both human and faunus alike…"

Why did Pyrrha have to choose to sit so close to the stage? At least it's not a front and center seat—more towards the left side of the amphitheater than anything. Maybe he's just being paranoid, but whenever the Headmistress turns in his direction, he imagines her directing pointed glares at him.

"Given that all of you have had at least five years of combat training prior to admission, we fully expect all of you to excel at not only in physical battle, but also within applicable academic realms of strategy…"

Right when the headmistress drones, "Absolutely no shifting within buildings unless specifically authorized," something like a golf ball drops into the empty seat next to him. He has about half a second to catch a glimpse of a tiny, twitchy mouse before it erupts in a plume of crimson smoke, and out of this colored cloud emerges Ruby.

Well he's definitely wide awake now. "Eek!"

"Did I miss anything important?" Ruby whispers. The mouse ears atop her head shift and swivel excitedly, but as if realizing that she's acting quite mousy, she abruptly freezes, takes a mental moment to compose herself, and returns fully to a normal state.

"How… how did… what—"

Thankfully, Ruby misunderstands his shock. "Oh, Yang said to ignore half of the Headmistress says in her introduction speech. Rules meant to be broken, she said."

Pyrrha breaks her perfect schoolgirl attentiveness to turn a severe frown upon the smaller redhead. "Rules or guidelines they may be," she whispers, "But they've been established for the benefit of the whole. Perhaps a miniature creature such as yourself can do little harm, but you cannot say the same for your sister within a full classroom. Now shhh. Listen."

"Yang has great control," mumbles Ruby stubbornly.

"…there will be no food within any classrooms," says the headmistress, just Jaune's stomach emits a particularly loud grumble and the image of fried chicken enters his mind yet again. Oh. That's why. In embarrassment, he tries to shrink into his seat, but he still feels like he's attracted the attention of everybody around him. So much for laying low.

The second the headmistress isn't looking, Ruby unties a small pouch from her waist and pushes the bag in Jaune's direction. "Food?"

Jaune gratefully accepts a handful of dried fruits and nuts. Halfway in the process of pouring the food down his mouth though, his brain stutters to a complete halt. "Wait wait wait," he splutters. "You were just a mouse."

Her silver-furred ears twitch in response. "Yeah?"

"You were a tiny mouse."

"It's why I'm wickedly fast," Ruby grins cheekily.

"No, I meant—where did you get this from?"

"Nicked it from the kitchens," comes Ruby's muffled voice, her mouth full of trail mix. "Want some more?"

"Um." He grabs the bag and holds it in front of her eyes. "You. As a mouse. Were smaller than this bag alone. How is that even possible?"

Pyrrha jabs her elbow into Jaune's side, right before a SNAP resounds through the entire auditorium. In the same moment, Ruby's tiny satchel is knocked from his hand and simply disintegrates into midair. Jaune flinches before swiveling in the direction that the sound came from; the headmistress is pointing a riding crop like a wand at him not twenty feet away, her cold eyes narrowed before she turns away and resumes speaking.

Jaune shivers. {Mental note #1: Never cross that lady.}

Ruby apparently has no care for the close call (and the loss of her food), because she soon whisper-shouts, "Wanna fight?"

"Wha?"

Ruby's silver eyes gleam with excitement. "If we duke it out after this, I can help you gauge your strengths and weaknesses! Tell you what to focus on and stuff."

Pyrrha nudges Jaune in warning again, so he settles for silent communication in the form of a clueless expression. It comes quite easily to his face.

"Oh. Well, when the headmistress mentioned combat training, you looked like you were going to pee your pants. I usually shake out pre-battle nerves with a smaller fight the day before, so…" Ruby bops her forefingers together nervously, as if she'd just asked him out on a date instead of... this.

Jaune raises an eyebrow. Ruby… is a tiny teenager. There are still some traces of childhood in her face (or maybe they're just mousy features): a small, round face with slightly chubby, rosy cheeks, large round eyes with that distinct silver gleam, a general twitchy hyperactivity mixed in with a tad bit of social awkwardness. It's not like he's underestimating her (okay, maybe a little), but... she isn't somebody that Jaune would want to hurt.

{But she's offering help… and you definitely need help.} "You think a… harmless mini practice battle is a good idea?" he murmurs as quietly as possible.

"Who said anything about harmless?" She must have seen the trepidation in his expression, because she adds, "Hey, better now than during Initiation."

Right. That again. "What's Initiation like?"

Pyrrha's elbow digs into his side, startling a squeak out of him. "If you were listening to the headmistress," she hisses, "You'd know that she's actually talking about it right now."

"Oh."

"—to watch your scrolls over the next couple days for incoming messages," Headmistress Goodwitch is saying. "At any time on a randomly selected day, you will be summoned to one of ten different arenas located throughout the academy to duel a randomly selected opponent. At least three instructors will be present to evaluate your performance; the Directors of the four school divisions will review select matches afterwards. Based upon these assessments of your battle technique, you will be given a Direction specializing in honing your strengths and covering your weaknesses."

A three-dimensional holographic projection flickers to life in a general cuboidal space above the stage and shifts in time with the headmistress' voice, from a stalwart black tortoise to a shimmering white tiger in mid-leap, a rising bird of crimson fire, and finally a writhing sea-green serpent underwater. "To the North Direction go those who value solid defensive strategies and precise and decisive blows. Those who excel in speed and subterfuge belong with the West, while those who bring offensive firepower to the field will be sorted into the South. Finally, those who demonstrate intelligence and quickness of mind will most likely find themselves headed for the East Direction.

"Know that each duel will be publicly projected into an overhead holoprojection for the viewing of the entire campus, so be sure to showcase the very best of your ability to your instructors and peers. Also know that, should you be knocked out within a certain time limit, your admission into this school will be revoked and you will have to leave school grounds immediately. Please note that the same goes for the purposeful exploitation, disfigurement, and/or consumption of an opponent already incapacitated. Please: just don't."

Jaune shivers again. It's like his vulnerability is on full display for the hundreds of possible predators sitting around him. Which of his neighbors is more likely to extend their claws and rip off his face? The emo guy with a red cloak at the end of his row? The busty girl sitting in front of him with hearts emblazoned on her blue gauntlets? Pyrrha, despite her help to him thus far? And he can't forget Ruby, especially since she looks awfully excited with the prospect of fighting him in the future on her mind.

"The dinner hall opens in an hour; until then, you are encouraged to familiarize yourself with the campus and each other. I look forward to reviewing your Initiations in the next couple days. Dismissed."

Ruby is already on her feet, leaping over people's laps and scampering towards the exit. "Com'on, Jaune! Let's fight to the… well, I guess this is just practice… but com'on, hurry up!"

Jaune glances at Pyrrha apologetically, but the redhead appears to be engaged in conversation with the black-haired girl with the blue gauntlets. Hesitantly, he touches Pyrrha's shoulder. "I'm going to… uh… practice with Ruby," he says weakly.

Pyrrha's conversation partner seemingly takes interest in this. "The Mouse?" she pipes up.

"Jaune, this is Tifa," Pyrrha introduces. "We went to the same combat school in the Tiger territories."

"I'm not a Tigress though," Tifa grins, pointing to her eyes. Her crimson pupils. Seriously, can't anybody here have a normal human eye color for once? That, and she has way more muscle than he does—then again, who doesn't? Interestingly, she's wearing a pink ribbon tied around her left arm.

"The smaller the Rat, the faster they usually are," says Tifa, directing her advice at Jaune. "A girl that size? You're going to need some sort of Dust backup before you even think about approaching her."

"Uh, like this?" Jaune pulls the vial of Dust that Milta had given him earlier out of his pocket.

Pyrrha gently takes the small bottle from his hands, curiously inspecting the shifting interior of the powdery substance before handing it over to Tifa. "I only use one type of Dust for my rifle rounds," she admits. "Though yours certainly looks beautiful."

"Natural powder state," Tifa muses, swishing the contents of the bottle from side to side. She gestures at the sword sheathed within the collapsible shield strapped to his hip. "Is this something you plan on loading into your weapon?"

"I, uh… no?" He unsheathes his longsword for the first time in what feels like a long time; after he switched from combat training to tactical school, he never really had much time to take up swordplay again. "Crocea Mors," he says. "That's its name. It was passed down from my great-great-grandfather."

Pyrrha's eyes glow with interest. "I have my roots in the classics," she says. "May I?"

Jaune passes the hilt in Pyrrha's direction while Tifa ponders, "Maybe this Dust is something you use for personal enhancements through physical proximity."

"How?"

"I don't know," Tifa admits, handing the bottle back to Jaune. "Crystals inserted into talismans and charms usually do that job. They're weaker in power but less prone to blowing up at just a sneeze." She smiles coquettishly. "Anyways, best not to try anything like snorting that powder or something, otherwise you could lose that pretty face. Didn't the vendor tell you anything about it?"

"Actually, it was a gift. From Miltia Malachite."

Tifa and Pyrrha do that woman-thing where they have an entire conversation telepathically with just a single look. After a second or two, Tifa addresses Pyrrha with faked cheer, "Well, I'll be sure to catch your Initiation tomorrow, okay? I'm sure you'll make it into South." Without waiting for a reply, the black-haired girl is gone.

Immediately afterwards, Pyrrha grabs both of Jaune's shoulders and pulls him close. For a half-second, he thinks that Pyrrha's going to pull a Sun and trade saliva with him, but what happens next is just as unexpected. "Are you sure you spoke with a Miltiades Malachite?"

"Y-y-yeah." The look of alarm on Pyrrha's face makes Jaune uncomfortable. "What, did I say something wrong?"

Pyrrha's eyebrows contort. Her fingers grip into his shoulders—not painfully, but with more strength than she probably realizes. "For your sake, Jaune, don't mention her to anybody else."

"Why?"

"Jaune!" Ruby calls impatiently from several benches above. "What's the hold up?"

"I'll explain over dinner," responds Pyrrha. She pulls out her scroll. "Here, Tifa taught me a little trick earlier. We can locate each other if we exchange contact information."

Jaune curiously pulls out his scroll, watching as Pyrrha bops one end of her scroll against an end of his. Both of the central diamond buttons flash, with an emblem of a tiger's head blinking on Jaune's and a simple blank circle on Pyrrha's.

"Dinner date it is." Jaune flashes what he hopes is a confident smile. Then he hops up a row of seats and begins to make his way up towards Ruby. It isn't long before he gets stuck in the slow-moving crowd of students still filing towards the auditorium exits, however, and because he's only the clumsiest person in the world, he can't help but bump into every single person around him. "Whoops. Ack. Sorry, didn't mean to step on your—! Umf. Ruby, could you maybe wait—agh!"

A shoulder rams him in the back, knocking him straight into an unsuspecting girl. Some unintentional grappling goes down as they both try to maintain their balance, but the effort ends in nothing but an awkward tangle of limbs on the ground. Spluttering words of apology, he uses his arms to push at least his face out of her (lack of) chest… and is subsequently left speechless as he recognizes her face.

"It is good to meet you again, Jaune!"

Jaune nervously scrabbles off her and sits back on his haunches. "You! Penny!"

"Me! Penny!" Other than turning her head slightly to maintain eye contact with him, the freckled girl doesn't move at all from her supine position on the ground—not even when somebody steps on her hand.

Jaune winces as he moves forward to gather Penny's askew limbs together. "Here, do you think you can get up?"

"I certainly can!" As if she was simply waiting for the command, Penny easily leaps to her feet and dusts herself off. "How may I be of help to you, Jaune?"

"I—" Jaune scans the crowd and just barely catches a glimpse of Ruby. Again, though, who is he to deny somebody's help? "Uh, it's okay, Penny—but here, let's trade contact info so I can keep in touch with you." He glances down for just a second to locate and pull out his scroll. "See, I learned this nifty—"

{LIGHT SHE'S DONE IT AGAIN.}

There is no orange-haired girl standing in front of him. She could have just as easily slipped into the crowd still streaming towards the auditorium exit, but he could have sworn… he'd only taken his eyes off her for half a second…

{How did she even}

{But}

{what}

"I'm trying to decide: either you're half-turtle," comes Ruby's voice from directly behind him, "Or you just don't want to get your butt kicked by a little girl on the first day of school."

"Forget kicking my butt. I am so boned. So boned it leaves me speechless."

Ruby does her best to look innocent, though the effect is mostly negated by the massive mechanical Scythe of Death carelessly resting on her back. "But I'm only fifteen," she says, her large eye wobbling pitifully. "Com'on, Jaune. Play with me."

He can't tell if she comprehends the implications of her words but disregards it in favor of pointing at her… thing accusingly. "What… I have no words. What is that even?"

Ruby spins the weapon off her back and around her body so casually that she might as well have been dancing with a flag and not a Scythe of Mass Destruction. Thankfully they've moved into an outdoor courtyard, otherwise she might have accidentally sliced up some unsuspecting furniture. She ends her display by folding the colossal weapon back into its rather compact storage form, then cradles it lovingly. "This is Crescent Rose," she coos. "My preeeecious baby. Though I usually introduce her to strangers as a customizable high-caliber sniper-rifle scythe."

"A, a what?"

"Showing's always better than just telling. Com'on, pull out your tool, and let's get down and dirty." Just like that, she's unfolded her Rifle-Scythe of Doom and, with menacing crunch, planted its sharp tip at least three inches into the concrete. "You can handle a little girl, can't you?"

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that you're more in this practice sesh to kick my butt instead of helping me survive tomorrow's Initiation?"

"Why can't I just let my body do the teaching?"

{She's fifteen. Don't forget she's fifteen.} "Um..."

A tiny smile slips onto Ruby's face. "Don't worry," she consoles. "We'll start off slow and easy and work our way up to however rough you want to go."

"Not too rough, please. I bruise easily." {Well, confidence is a bust. Okay, focus on swordplay instead. Oh who am I kidding? Hers its tons bigger than mine. It's like fighting a jackhammer with a banana—}

Jaune chokes on his thoughts when Ruby scoops him up in the curve of her Scythe of Suffering and tosses him into the nearest tree (which is still a good twenty away). The blade surprisingly doesn't slice through his leather armor pads, but falling out of the tree and faceplanting into the dirt hurts his manly pride. Just a little. "You didn't give me a countdown!" he moans, spitting grass out of his mouth.

"Opponents won't give you prior notice before they bone you," Ruby calls from the courtyard.

"So you admit to the crime."

"Don't worry, it gets less painful—well, okay, it's just as painful, but definitely a lot more fun—the more you work at it," Ruby comforts in her own peculiar way. (He's still working on convincing himself that the teenager doesn't have a clue of all those little implications.) "And I'd say that you're definitely not built for speed. Let's try something else in round two. Defense?"

Jaune pulls himself into a battle stance, gripping his sword with both hands while clearing his mind. {Don't forget that she's four years younger than you are. Don't go there.} In terms of battle technique, he now knows that he can't brute-force her; her massive weapon gives her the upper hand in that aspect. The best he can really do is outmaneuver her. Surprise her. Maybe it's not too late to snort a little of Miltia's Dust… "Just give me three seconds to nurse my—"

"Threetwoonego!" Ruby yelps, and then she's flat out sprinting towards him with gleeful murder in her silver eyes.

Jaune barely dodges the scythe blade by jumping behind the tree, which lets out an ominous schick noise as the cutting edge buries itself three inches deep into the bark. Any panicked protest that Jaune prepared to shriek is drowned out when Ruby fires off a sniper round—and because the scythe blade is still planted deep in the trunk, it's her own body that is whipped around the tree like a slingshot by the recoil. The solid kick she delivers to his chest sends him flipping through the air like a flying fish, though this time he hits the ground with a well-rehearsed roll and comes to a stop in a ready crouch.

It's just long enough to get a good look at Ruby yanking her weapon out of the tree with the help of another gunshot and {what the actual Light} an explosion of rose petals that accompanies the blast. "Stay still a moment, will you?" she cries. "If you belong in North Direction, this shouldn't hurt much."

"What, lopping off my head?"

Ruby smiles cutely. "Okay, revision: it shouldn't hurt for very long."

How did his first faunus friend end up being so innocently sadomasochistic? "For the love of Remnant, Ruby, what kind of family did you grow up in?"

He doesn't exactly run, per se. It's a tactical retreat, heading away from the courtyard and towards a place with more trees. She didn't slice him in half with her first blow, so maybe she's using a dull practice edge, like one that she uses when she wants to fight friends and not chop up stirfry steak. Assuming that she can't mow down trees as easily cutting grass, maybe his opponent's particular weapon will have trouble in tighter spaces.

Ruby is way faster than he anticipated, though, literally vaulting over his head and showering him with rose petals. Anchoring her scythe deep in the dirt, she takes him down with a scissor kick—one leg in the chest and the other in the back of his knees. As he goes down like a limp noodle, she triumphantly answers, "I'm from Mice Clan. You, on the other hand… wherever you're from, you don't fight much, do you?"

The kick to his chest had knocked the breath from him, so Jaune takes a moment to gulp down lungfuls of rose-scented air—then quickly slaps his hands over his eyes in a panic, because, in all the lucky magnificence of the great universe, his position on the ground just so happens to give him the perfect shot up Ruby's red-lined skirt. "Ah! I'm sorry! This wasn't planned at all!"

"Huh?" A second later, Ruby squeaks, yanks her weapon out of the dirt, and leaps six feet backwards. "J-J-Jaune…"

Jaune scrambles backwards until he gets back onto his feet. "I'm not a pervert, I promise."

"Well, now I know how Yang feels when I tell her I haven't stolen cookies from the cookie jar," Ruby mutters to herself, before loudly speaking, "I believe you."

"I swear I—what?"

Ruby cradles her weapon as if for comfort before turning her eyes back to Jaune. "It was an awkward accident so let's get back to less awkward things like me helping you with your fighting technique please?"

Jaune nods frantically. "Great. Cool. I'm so sorry about—"

"So far you've been only been on the defensive," Ruby interrupts quickly. "But I wouldn't really stick you with the tanks of the North Direction because on a scale of one to wimpy, you're somewhere around three million."

"Hey!" This is immediately followed by a sneeze, flowers fluttering free of his hair from the force of the explosion. "Ugh. Allergies," he snuffles.

"Case in point."

"What? Even a man like me has weaknesses."

"I've seen allll of those, but I'm trying to find your strengths here so think fast, round three!" Without warning, she uses another flowery sniper round as propellant to rocket herself towards him.

By some miracle, his body moves a lot faster than his mind does. Maybe it's the Dust working its magic through some weird personal enhancement like Tifa had said, but what feels like an invisible pull on his shoulders and hips brings him not to the side and away from the threat; instead, he leans back and slides forward on his knees, scooting just under Ruby as she buries her scythe six a good foot into the dirt just inches behind his head.

Clearly Ruby wasn't expecting this move. Jaune wasn't really either, but he's the one who acts first, reaching up and grabbing the horizontal bar of her weapon with his shield hand. Ruby gasps in horrified resentment at this, but he doesn't give her much time to protest before he feints an upward stab with his longsword. Ruby reflexively leans back and shifts her weight back onto her haunches to dodge—whereupon, in a two-footed kick with one leg on either side of the scythe's shaft, he plants his feet into her center of weight.

She really is a tiny person, because it doesn't take a lot of force in his kick to knock her away. However, even her flight through the air is brought under control as she twists her tiny body gracefully, her fluttering red cape silhouetting her lithe form against the twilight sky, before she dive-bombs right back down onto him with a scream of "Hands off my baby!"

The second she lands, she attempts to dislodge him via the recoil of another gunshot. The maneuver probably doesn't go as she planned though, because she's got Jaune hanging off her scythe like a stubborn monkey. Like a stubborn racked monkey in horrible pain, but having somebody who weighs twice as much as she does on her flying rocket of a killer weapon drastically throws off her calculations. In other words, they travel for all of three feet before their awkward mode of transportation flips over and throws its two passengers headlong into the grass. Ruby's light form tumbles much farther away than Jaune's, though she's immediately on her feet. Jaune literally throws himself backwards to land directly on top of her weapon of mass destruction, halting Ruby's forward motion.

"No! Stop!" she orders desperately. "You're touching her all wrong!"

Jaune lifts his hands in a pacifying manner. "I'm not going to violate… her. Just… evening the playing field." He leaps to his feet, sword and shield at the ready, to stand between Ruby and her weapon.

Ruby tilts her head quizzically. "Haven't you already won? You've de-weaponized me. Isn't this where you go, 'Off with her head' and swing your tool at my face?"

"I'm not going to underestimate you. You'll probably pull a fast one when I—"

He catches a glimpse of an approving grin right before the girl blurs into a silver comet that launches him straight up into the air. He barely has time to bring his shield up before she sweeps her scythe off the ground and swings it into him like a bladed baseball bat.

It's like getting hit by a high-speed train. Or getting launched off the edge of a cliff by a spring-loaded platform and tumbling through the sky with nothing but his own screams and the whistling of the wind filling his ears.

It's actually pretty much just like that, up until a spear barely grazes the skin of his tender neck before piercing the hood of his black sweater. This wickedly sharp projectile transforms his uncontrolled aerial tumbles into a speedy thrill ride that ends with him smashed into a tree, hanging at least thirty feet off the ground.

His heart is still thrumming in his ears when he glances up at the javelin that either saved him from a lot of pain, or was actually meant to end him messily. He really hopes the owner's intent was the former. He really doesn't know here at Zodiac. Who knows, maybe all faunus are bloodthirsty killers who shoot unidenitified flying objects first and ask questions later.

The spear itself is made of red and gold metal. There are joints and screws where there shouldn't be on any old lance, though. And is that a gun barrel sticking out of the opposite end? Everything he's observed suggests that the javelin maybe has the same transformability of Ruby's weapon. In which case, do a lot of weapons here all serve dual functions? Will faunus here be disappointed that Crocea Mors doesn't have a railgun and butterfly net built into its form?

The colors of the lance resemble Pyrrha's emblem colors—at least, the crimson of the spear is a lot like the color of her hair, if he remembers correctly. Just in case, he shouts out, "THANK YOU!" while trying to pull himself loose. Unfortunately, the spear is buried quite deep into the wood. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's not like he's super weak or wimpy. It's the positioning of the spear too, right above and behind his head; the human body doesn't have the best muscles for that kind of action. And the thirty-foot drop beneath him. Eh… maybe he'll just hang out here for a while until whoever saved him (through questionable and frankly frightening methods) comes back to retrieve his/her weapon.

He's right at the point of wondering whether he's literally been hung out to dry when somebody speaks right into his ear. "Hazing's started already, hasn't it?"

Jaune lets out a little scream and turns his head straight into the metal rod pinning him to the tree, but as far as he can tell, there's nobody in sight. "Who's there?"

A figure alights onto the other end of the javelin pinning Jaune to the tree. Black hair, pale skin, and those piercing magenta eyes—he instantly recognizes the guard in the green jacket. "Why am I not surprised that it's you," says Lie Ren lightly, precariously perched yet maintaining balance with perfect poise.

Jaune notes how Ren posed his sentence not as a question but a statement. Did he really give off that sort of impression to the body guard? "You didn't happen to throw this, did you?" he questions, tapping the spear.

Ren shakes his head.

"Um. Did you happen to see who did?"

"I was reading the sky when you… landed," Ren responds. "I didn't see your bully."

"Bully? No, actually this was more like rescue work. At least, I think it was. Because I was already flying through the air before I got speared. And the reason why I was airborne wasn't because somebody… y'know, I'll explain later. Could you possibly help me get down?"

Ren nods silently. He punches both fists forward; the forward momentum magically brings two firearms out of his green sleeves. The guns themselves have blades attached to them, a lot like Melanie had cutting edges to her boots. Thankfully, Ren uses his bladed weapons not to attack Jaune's face, but to anchor himself into the tree bark above Jaune's head. From that position, he begins to work on pulling the javelin straight out from the tree in order to avoid harming the spearhead.

"Thanks," says Jaune.

Ren doesn't reply.

"So… you're Weiss' guard."

Ren only grunts. It sounds like a confirmatory grunt. Jaune glances upwards to try and get a look at Ren's expression, but the only view he gets from his hanging position is dat ass in those tight white pants.

He spends the rest of their conversation meticulously inspecting his shoes.

"We all need someone to lean on," Ren says quietly after the world's most awkward pause.

"What was that?"

The other boy remains silent for a couple seconds before unexpectedly switching subjects. "You look like you've taken a lot of abuse."

Jaune sheepishly rubs the back of his head. "Well, see, I was just about to talk about that. Like how I got my butt kicked in a duel. A friendly duel, between friends, without harmful intent. Huh, actually, I'd like to take that back. There was definitely harm intended… but in a good way? No pain, no gain, right?"

Ren continues as if Jaune hadn't spoken. "I have a friend who has a similar history."

Jaune feels like he should be drawing connections between the points that Ren's mentioning, but really, all he feels is lost. Maybe if he could see Ren's face... better not risk it though. "Uh… I'm sorry…?"

"You have nothing to apologize for."

Ren relapses into what he probably thinks is a comfortable silence, punctured only by grunts of effort as he continues to work the spear free. Maybe Ren's like that: one of those quiet, untalkative people who find solace in soundless moments.

Jaune isn't one of those people.

It isn't long before he feels the need to fill up the awkward silence with inane conversation—like the first thing that comes to mind: "So… what's the deal with Miltia Malachite?"

There's only silence for the longest time, until finally Lie Ren says, "She doesn't exist."