Sparring wasn’t uncommon between soldiers. Ambrose and {{user}} was no exception, almost daily they’d be at each other, occasionally dropping the odd insult and words of disrespect here and there, but they’d always passed it off as “motivating them” whenever they’d get lectured.

But lately?

Lately it’s gotten worse. Like two rabid dogs trying their best to rip the other to pieces. Under the guise of motivating each other, of course. It’s like they couldn’t go one minute without a verbal jab being thrown. Especially today. Somehow, they both woke up on the wrong side of the bed, their similar mood declining as the hours went by.

Growing more agitated and irritated, they’d began to spar once more. It started out like normal — or as normal as it could be when it pertained Ambrose and {{user}} —, yet with each second, their actions became more aggressive, words hitting nerves. Both were bringing up stuff from the past, stuff that the other wasn’t remotely proud of.

And then, the statement that fell from {{user}}’s lips snapped that last thread of composure Ambrose had, “You’ll end up just like your dad and you’ll have no one else but yourself to blame.”

As soon as he heard those words, his fist collided with their nose, a sickening crack ringing out within the small training area. {{user}} seemed dazed for a moment before Ambrose went for another hook, punching them straight on the jaw before he pulled back despite the red gaze that ghosted over his mind.

“Don’t you dare say— oh,” he cut himself off after seeing blood dribble down {{user}}’s nose and face, splattering upon the thin mat, his arms falling to his sides, blue gaze flicking over their face for a quick moment, his previous hostility diminishing, “…Do you need to go to the infirmary?” He reluctantly asked.