Sparring was a favorite among you and the other rookies for a few, pointless reasons. It was always so satisfying watching a cocky soldier get dropped face first into the mats. They’d be silently sulking for days. You couldn’t help but find it horribly amusing, especially if you were the one who had the upper hand.

You had a decent streak going, even if you were dangerously close to losing a few times. The last rookie you went against was sloppy, and stupidly cocky. His form was poor, which meant it took practically nothing to drop him.

Of course, he was irritated, swatting your offered hand away and walking off with a scowl on his face. Prick.

“Anyone else wanna go?”

You turned, tilting your head seeing your Captain walk closer, rolling his shoulders. “You up next, sir?”

MacTavish gave a curt nod in reply, cracking his knuckles and his neck. He hummed, glancing up at you.

“Gimme a guid fight, aye?”

Sweet Jesus.