2. shaky
"Boy, come here, I have someone I want you to meet." Achilles called to Ratonhnhaké:ton who was upstairs in the manor performing some menial task that Achilles had assigned to him. The young boy peered down the staircase, seeing Achilles standing at the bottom near the entrance with a familiar blonde.
Ratonhnhaké:ton's nostrils flared a bit as he bounded down the staircase, "What is she doing here?"
Achilles' cane found its way to the back of Ratonhnhaké:ton's knees as he scolded the boy, "Where are your manners?" He turned to the girl who simply grinned, "I apologize for the boy's disrespect, Marceline, he still has a lot to learn."
"It is no problem, sir. We had a bit of a... spat in the woods a couple days ago, I see he has not forgotten me."
Achilles looked at Ratonhnhaké:ton who was rubbing his aching knees, "This is Marceline Chaput, she comes from the Assassin guild based in France and she is to help you with your training in areas where I cannot."
Ratonhnhaké:ton was silent as he assessed the girl better now than when he did in the forest. She was tall for a woman, a couple inches shy of six feet, placing her at exactly his height. Her hair was a dirty blonde and was pulled back into a ponytail as it had been when they first met. Her eyes were a shocking shade of blue, one he was not used to growing up in Kanatahséton where everyone he knew had dark features, including himself. And despite the light scars that were present on her face, which were only noticeable upon a closer inspection, he knew she would be considered attractive although that did not lessen Ratonhnhaké:ton's dislike for her.
Marceline, who had been sizing him up as he had been doing to her, looked him dead in the eyes, "You had better not waste my time, garçon."
To say their relationship started off shaky was a bit of an understatement.