"As for assistants, like I said, I have a few students who prove useful. As far as those able to teach independently - I can't say anyone jumps to mind," Felicity said, and wrinkled her nose. She wrestled briefly with two slices of beef that didn't want to separate, then gave up, slapping them both down on the bread. A too-thick sandwich never hurt anyone, after all.
"To be quite honest, any experienced Fighter with a handful of years' experience could teach the baby squires how to fall safely and not trip over their own feet. I've seen a handful of folks try, but they never seem to stick with it for longer than a season or two." Teaching, while infinitely rewarding, could be somewhat trying for those with little patience or any attachment to their personal dignity. Luckily, Felicity had patience aplenty, and the Thistle had stripped her of all dignity years ago.
The piles of sandwich materials were swiftly diminishing, and Felicity fought off the urge to stick her tongue out at Peony's comment. "I'm not that bad!" she protested, and then promptly yawned again. "Well, bother. I'll stay long enough to taste the cookies, at least," she promised, speeding up her assembly line with somewhat haphazard results. Tomato stains were easy enough to get out, weren't they?