Harry | Sif (evening)
It had been...well it had been a day. At least it had been busy enough and full of enough people coming, going, and providing Sif with a reasonable enough distraction, that she'd managed to get her focus back forward in front of her. A human, or perhaps other race, might have felt tired or fatigued from a day spent so long in action, but Sif rather enjoyed it. Certainly she knew she would soon be forced to retire, to seek food and drink and a respite to regain her strength. Of course, all that assumed that the acquiring of said food and drink didn't lead to yet another rowdy altercation at the local drinking hall Stariins. Not that Sif would mind if it did, save for the simple fact that a melee in the midst of a bar was hardly the kind of thing that gave one energy back.
Of course all that changed when she heard the voice behind her. This one actually made her smile for a moment. As far as mortals went, the Wizard Dresden -- as would always be his name to her -- was far more than she'd been led to expect. Certainly Thor had prattled on at no great length about humans and, for what it was worth, Sif had believed him. She'd done her best not to let her view get tempered by Thor's attentions to Jane or whatever that might have given rise to in the Asgardian herself. She tried to take all humans, like Bobbi Morse and now the Wizard, as seriously as she could. It certainly helped that the latter was one who apparently knew of Asgard and had met Odin but, after what had happened inside the Reaper?
A good battle story was really all it took to make fast friends with anyone where Sif was from and her defense of the corridor with Harry would be one of her favorites to tell for a long time. Especially if she ever made it back to Asgard.
"You are going to insist on calling me that name, are you not?" The accent was subtle, but ever present. A sign that, maybe, Sif had relaxed herself some. It was just enough that she peeked her way over his shoulder to take in the room behind him. There were obviously still some people in the room, training on dummies and no one who seemed in dire need of any correction before they hurt themselves. It was enough that she could return her focus to Harry himself and the conversation at hand -- which was one she had not at all expected.
"With your magics, Wizard, I am quite surprised to hear you would have any need of sticks at all?" She smirked at him, treating him as though she would any with whom she had endured a battle. There was an obvious tease in her voice too, like she was certain he was just playing a game with her. It was amusing and appreciated all its own really but it it didn't stop her from making her way over to the training rack and acquiring a couple of practice blades.
Easily, seamlessly, she rolled the grips and pommels around in her hand, flexing and weaving her forearms to send the blades into a back and forth spin while she paced back towards Harry's position. It was a practiced habit, even with blades you picked up a hundred times. It was to test weight, to make things felt familiar. It was also a cue to the body and mind both that soon they would need to put their skills to the test, though that seemed far less likely with the current person standing in front of her.
"Tell me then, what is your skill level? Have you ever fought with a stick before?" She held one of them out to him, in case he'd been serious she did not at all intend to deter him. "And I must of course ask to be certain you are not about to imbue the blade with some kind of magic..." She didn't. While she wouldn't say she implicitly trusted Harry, she could see no reason why this request didn't warrant at least a slight bit of teasing.