"It is about having the proper motivations, I think." He hadn't been motivated to fight until he had gone to Paris. Prior to that it had all been theory independent of practical action; combat as a gentleman's art, and art for art's sake, or perhaps because it had simply been expected. Regardless, school and its bullies had necessitated learning to defend himself, then Paris itself had become motivation enough. No one liked to be defenseless against thieves, no one liked to be powerless during an uprising.

"I learned because I had people I wanted to protect. I am not especially strong, and I have known better fighters both here and in my home, but every man is capable of improvement." He bit his lip, glancing pensively from the boxing equipment to the boy in front of him and back again. "Practice makes perfect, as the old saying goes."