Coming up to the scene, Achilles watched as the mortal men attempted to throw around some skill with means to impress the Spartan. It was honestly laughable.
This sparing match was to be different from his with Briseis. That had been hand to hand combat, this was a little more in his style. Watching Helen swivel around and throw hard strikes to the soft boys that were more or less in shock, was amusing. He held his hands together and clapped, a light chuckle hitting his throat.
"Impressive," he said in that arrogant voice, the men turning to look at who intruded, which was enough to land Helen another blow at their disengagement. "Never lose your focus," Achilles said to the man who now seethed at the blow he'd taken. Abruptly Achilles took the sword from his hand and swished it around in his own, eyebrow moving upward.
He had not dressed in the armor that Helen donned or in the exact look she was familiar with, but he had something closer to, as well as artifacts off his apartment wall. Long spear, shield, all tools he was comfortable in using. Without a helmet however, unfortunately to sad mortals they still thought he looked like Brad Pitt walking out of the film he despised.
He was the second to arrive out of the others that had been invited, and his presence as always demanded attention.
Achilles looked to Helen. "I figured this was more the ensemble you were looking for?"