Leave the shoes at the door (Marvin) 13.07.11 - The White Tower

"Saber works for me" he shrugged. "You want to go live or training?"

"Either works" the youth said, sipping at his glass again before setting it back down.
"But my statement about the carpets still stands"
Blood on white carpets was a pain. He'd disposed of a fair few over the years for various reasons...

"Training blades then, and we go until one or the other quits, or the sun rises."

"Fair enough" he got up and stretched lazily again. "Would you mind if I chose a different blade?"

"As long as it's a sword and a training blade, I don't care."

The youth smiled as he moved from the sofa, moving past Marvin to glance over a few of the weapons. Although from the looks of it, he'd already decided as he reached out and picked one of seemingly two identical blades from its rack.

"So tell me" Charlie turned to face Marvin, holding the katana by the scabbard, resting his free hand on his hip. "Who taught you to fence?"

"Buddy of mine who was on the Harvard fencing team while I was at MIT. I just barely missed Olympic trials."

"Really?" Charlie still smiled, weighing the sheathed blade in his hand. You ought to be good then"
The youth stretched his neck, his eyes still on Marvin.
"So, anymore rules we need to agree on?"

"Mmm not that I can think of. Fight until one of us gives in. No boosts, no using clan abilities or anything like that. Means I won't get into your head to change your emotions, and you won't do that brujah hit lots of things really fast bit"

"So basically just a beat down the old fashioned way? When enough hurt's been had one yields?" the youth shifted his grip of the sheathed blade slightly so to push it free with a slight nudge of his thumb on the tsuba. A low click could be heard though he still didn't draw the weapon.

"Pretty much. We draw our blades, and take a ready position, and when one of us calls it, we attack. Oh, hang on."

He took off his loose fitting shirt "Don't want to snag this. It's expensive."

The youth let his right foot slide back, seemingly reading his stance as a hand was moved to rest on the hilt of the sword which blade he had yet to draw. Hopefully he was being honest and he really had picked a dull blade.
He smirked though as Marvin pulled his shirt of, though didn't exactly return the gesture.
"Worried about the little things hm?"

"Too many Erol Flynn movies on TV as a kid. I can hardly imagine sword fighting in a shirt to be honest" he laughed, as he took a stance and made ready to draw his sword.

Well, Charlie gave him just enough time to ready his stance and once certain the Malkavian was ready, unsheathed his blade in an upwards arch that combined it into an attack. Clasping the scabbard in his left hand to use for parrying and blocking as was part of the combat style he'd chosen to go with.
He didn't stop to talk, didn't hesitate. Simply lashed out with the same liquid dexterity as had ended up becoming a trademark of his over the years. Swift feet dancing across the floor as the guillotine of a blade lashed out again and again, the oriental style of his fighting evident to anyone who'd ever stopped to watch an Asian movie.

Where the brujah was graceful at cat like, the insane programmer was lighting fast, matching and blocking nearly every move of Charlie's

It would seem they were evenly matched in a lot of ways. Each moving to match the other with skills that had taken years to hone, years to perfect. Each classic in their own style of combat, though as different in night and as to how they chose to execute it.

For each attack there was a block or parry. For each block came another attack and another attempt of distraction to find an opening. Once in a while the blow of a dull blade would connect with one of their bodies, only to have an equal attack match that move and repay the favour.

Evenly matched, save the malkavian had more stamina. He waited for Charlie to slow down, before suddenly slamming him into a wall and pinning him with an iron grip around his throat, the sword pointed at Charlie's belly

"So I taught your father computers and his son the blade. What more shall I give your family? "

The youth's instinctive reaction to the grip around his throat was not to let go of his weapon but rather change the grip of it. So that the moment Marvin's sword was at his stomach, Charlie's blade was at the other man's neck. Bit of a problem with a dull blade though, it didn't really cut. It could crush, but not cut. So the edge lingering at the stronger man's neck was more symbolic than anything else at the moment.

Charlie grit his teeth, steel blue eyes locking with those of Marvin. A far more predatory touch to them now as the duel seemed to have worked up his adrenaline levels a fair bit.
He didn't move though. For while his blade couldn't cut there was little doubt in his mind that Marvin could pin him to the wall with his if he wanted to. Dull didn't mean as much with that kind of strength other than to add to the pain.

"You're one confident smug bastard..." he actually smirked. Still unmoving.

Madness gleamed in Marvin's eyes as he held Charlie by the throat, and suddenly threw him across the room. "Sometimes yes" he said calmly "surrender? "

The youth was flung aside like a rag doll, his trajectory somehow avoiding any fragile looking pieces of art before slamming into the back of a couch and tumbling over it to land on the floor with a groan. He dropped the scabbard in the process, but kept the reverse gripped katana with a clenched fist.
"Fucking...." Charlie grit his teeth, pushing himself up off the floor and bringing his hand to the corner of his lips as his eyes sought Marvin again.
"What did I say about burning the cat...?" the youth's eyes narrowed. The look on his face changing, something slightly darker creeping over it.

"You are not yet singed. A proper reaction to one with. blade at their throat"

He kicked the scabbard aside and advanced with the rapidly swinging katana

"You are good my cat, and my advantages are only in strength and stamina. Accept your loss and I will teach you an edge that could defeat men stronger than I "

"If you want your prize..." a predatory smirk eased across his lips. "You better be man enough to claim it"
Charlie brought the blade up again.
"Then we'll discuss teaching the cat new tricks"

Marvin's only response was a lighting fast attack that drove Charlie towards the wall again

The reversed grip blade was brought up just in time to block the attack, though the strength difference between the two was not something that could be denied as it resulted in Charlie once again slamming his shoulders back against a wall. The two blades locked between them, his free hand seeking to keep some distance or well, not really distance as much as simply something, between the two of them as it was pressed with the flat of his palm against Marvins stomach.

To Hell with Potence buffed Malkavians.

The youth growled from behind gritted teeth, not really able to do much to move himself or the blade that was currently keeping Marvin's weapon at, well, a blade's distance. Still, the look in his eyes, though predatory, wasn't all anger. In fact, anger seemed to be a very little part of it all together...

He didn't have potence but there was no denying he was buff

With his free hand, Marvin again pinned the brujahs throat, smiling all the while

"I can hold you until you drop that blade from exhaustion and still have the energy to enjoy my prize. "