Ermon arches an eyebrow when he finally gets what she means:
"Oh, you mean, special-special? Sorry, following the wrong way for that. Hm, maybe Bishop could..." - he rubs his chin but then shrugs off the contemplation, - "Anyway, I'll be setting up a workshop at our place - you can call if you need stuff crafted, maybe we can work something out".
Her tentative comment about a relationship gets one of his warmer smiles:
"Sounds like a story but I won't pry".
The advice on running is regarded in silence. The mirth vanishes, yet again. It's like Ermon is pretty good at controlling his emotions. He stops the clumsy stretching at once and starts walking around, shaking and rubbing his legs in practiced movements:
"Yeah, you're solid and hired", - a hand is stretched towards the water, - "Thanks. Sorry, I, err... Actually, I know lots of stuff about running, needed to check if you could explain it well. You know, people being good at something themselves and sucking at explaining. Glad that's not you".
He takes a step back, thinks about something for a moment and nods to himself:
"Okay, here are the terms. I respect your boundaries and poke only lightly at them, you do whatever you want with mine. We meet once a week: I don't need you to hold my hand. You'll develop a training schedule for me and correct mistakes. I have one and a half hours in the morning and half an hour in the evening every day. I'm interesting in running, jumping, throwing stuff and archery. And I'm looking to build endurance, to hold more stuff inside without my head spinning", - the Warlock offers her his hand, - "And, of course, I pay you. Deal?"
Promises hold power, even when they aren't sealed with Fate.
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