There is, somewhere in the back of Mal's head, the insistence that after 41 years on God's creation, he should be better at hiding his response to certain things, but a poker face in the annals of war or at a game table doesn't translate to a poker face after getting his ass soundly handed to him by a hot woman on a horse, apparently, because as Brianna offers him a hand to pull him out of the dirt, his ass no less bruised than his pride, there's definitely a brief flicker of something more than good sportsmanship across stubble-dusted features. "I think I'm a little outta practice on horseback." He laughs, taking the help off the ground with a groan, taking his mask from its place on his hip and clicking it back into place on the magnets beneath his hood. "Damn good show, though, Good luck in the rest of the competition- Beat my ass soundly, Gonna be nursin' a few new bruises after that'n." He laughs, withdrawing his hand and dusting himself off. "Yanno I knew you'd left town t' do your whole music thing, didn't think 'get good at jousting' was on that list'a things t' do too." She'd been a hometown hero in a way decidedly separate from him- a right proper famous person born and raised in Huntsville- it was hard not to remember the way people went on about it when they were younger. "In all honesty, I don't think I need a sword. An' I've been soundly reminded a' why I'm both afraid of and real into women- I'll take th' consolation prize."
@violenttempest
