"Ha, maybe we were," he said with a half-laugh. "And it seems like a real mum skill, huh? Mine taught me a great deal about cleaning things." He caught the moment of hesitation, but he chose not to point it out. "I'm glad yours was good at that kind of thing, too. It's important life lessons and all." He smiled softly. "I bet my mum would have loved it if I'd just been covered in mud and grass. Mine was usually pus from wounded animals and blood and other viscera. My poor mother. I should hug her extra tight the next time I see her."
His smile grew a little more. "It's good to meet you, Emma," he said, waving his hand as if pish-poshing her thanks. "My wife's name is Nicola, and she's also an instructor." He held up his hand to his chest to Nic's height. "She's yea tall to me-standing up, of course-, English accented, and full of piss and vinegar. She's also the love of my life, if you couldn't tell just by how I talk about her."