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It’s during one of their meetings regarding city security that he finds his gaze catching on those gloves half covering Alhaitham’s hands and running up to his biceps. Cyno finds himself wondering how in the world those gloves actually work. There seems to be a ring that half hooks over the base of his thumb, incredibly impractical for someone normally as sensible as Alhaitham, but then again looking at the rest of his outfit…
“Something catch your eye, General?” Alhaitham asks, sounding infuriatingly smug.
Cyno had only looked at those gloves for a second longer than socially acceptable. He folds his arms to hide his embarrassment at being caught staring.
“I was just thinking how impractical those gloves of yours are when you’re always so insistent on being logical.”
“If you were curious, you just needed to ask. Why don’t you see for yourself?” Alhaitham says holding out an arm for him to inspect, the hint of a smirk on his lips.
Alhaitham seems amused which is really rather irritating. Cyno is tempted to decline the offer for that reason alone, but his curiosity wins out. Taking Alhaitham’s forearm between his hands, Cyno feels along the leather gauntlet and finds that it ends at the ring over his middle finger, the half gloves over his fingers seem to be separate pieces with the gauntlets strapped tightly over them. He follows the golden ring half wrapped around Alhaitham’s hand and traces it to his palm where thin straps cross over, presumably to hold the gloves in place.
He…hadn’t noticed before but Alhaitham’s hands are a lot bigger than his and he feels distinctive sword calluses under his inquisitive touch. He wonders who Alhaitham spars with and a sour feeling wells up in him at the thought of someone else exchanging blows with the Scribe.
“What are you thinking right now?”
Cyno is jolted out of his thoughts by Alhaitham’s words and looks up to see the Scribe watching him closely.
“Just wondering what kind of person would be willing to spar regularly with an Akademiya paper pusher.”
Cyno would probably feel a bit guilty for saying those words if Alhaitham wasn’t so unbothered by everything. But as expected, Alhaitham only huffs with amusement.
“There’s plenty. I just have to walk into the wilderness wearing my usual outfit. Apparently, I look like easy pickings.”
“Are you…joking?”
He must be, Cyno thinks. How is it possible for that to be a logical solution.
“No. I’ll leave the attempts at humor to the expert.” Cyno flushes at Alhaitham’s teasing tone.
“That seems unnecessarily dangerous. It’s not like you to put yourself at risk,” Cyno comments.
“And our General knows me so well? You’re right. I’d much prefer to stay at home, reading a nice book. But I’ve found that being proficient in combat is unfortunately necessary if I want to maintain my freedom to go where I please and do as I like.”
At least he’s aware of how his usual attitude and actions antagonizes others, Cyno thinks.
“I don’t stray far from the city and I know my limits,” Alhaitham continues. “And as you said, there aren’t many soldiers who would find it worth their time to spar with a feeble scholar such as myself.”
Cyno mouths the word “feeble” to himself incredulously. The taut muscles under his hand and, you know, right in front of his face—the muscle definition visible courtesy of that unnecessarily tight shirt—are clear evidence to the contrary. He finds the false modesty a little hilarious and chalks it up to his strange sense of humor.
Alhaitham is hardly someone who needs to be worried over and he knows the Scribe really is capable of taking care of himself, his judgments always on point. But Cyno can’t seem to help the feeling of unease he gets when he thinks of Alhaitham going out alone to, apparently, pick fights. At least when Cyno goes on solo missions, usually the matra or Tighnari are aware of it and know to look for him if he’s gone too long. He’s also perfectly aware that Alhaitham has a roommate, but Kaveh is often away on architectural projects and Cyno doubts that Alhaitham would trouble himself to keep the other informed of his whereabouts even were that not so.
Cyno finds himself saying, “There’s no need to go so far just for combat training. If you need a partner, I wouldn’t mind having someone different to spar with since I’m familiar with all the other matra’s fighting styles at this point. As long as I’m free of course.” He feels a bit uncertain making the offer but forces himself to meet Alhaitham’s gaze.
“That would certainly be more convenient for me,” Alhaitham says as he looks at him thoughtfully. “I think I’ll take you up on that. This arrangement seems to be more beneficial for me though. Is there something I can do for you in return?”
“No need.” Cyno replies shortly, frowning. “I meant it when I said I’m already too used to the other matra’s moves. It’s good to change things up once in awhile so I don’t get complacent and your fighting style is…unconventional.” As someone who spends most of his days indoors behind a desk, Alhaitham does indeed fall a bit short compared to the best of the matra but it’s already quite rare even among their higher ranks for someone to be able to even block Cyno’s strikes. And when Cyno says unconventional, he means that Alhaitham fights dirty. Adding on the unusual way he uses his Vision...Well, it’ll certainly keep Cyno on his toes and he even feels a little excitement thinking about sparring with the other man.
“At least let me treat you to dinner then,” Alhaitham requests. “Even the General Mahamatra must eat sometime and it’s important to replenish your energy after exercising.”
Coming from Alhaitham, it seems like an uncharacteristically flimsy excuse but Cyno supposes it couldn’t hurt to agree if it’ll satisfy the Scribe’s sense of fairness. It really isn’t necessary but Alhaitham probably doesn’t want to feel indebted to him and he is a bit curious what the other man’s preferences are when it comes to food. Cyno’s mealtimes are simply whenever he has the time anyways.
“Fine. I'll choose where to eat the first time,” Cyno says, suddenly feeling the desire to see the immaculate Scribe eating handheld street food. “You can choose next time.”
“I find that agreeable,” Alhaitham says looking strangely satisfied. “Now, are you done investigating my gloves? Of course if you’d like to hold my hand longer, I’m happy to oblige the General.”
Cyno’s face reddens as he realizes he’s been practically holding Alhaitham’s hand this entire time, his smaller hand half wrapped around the larger palm and quickly pulls his hands back. He ignores the slight sense of loss he feels.
“I wasn’t holding your hand,” Cyno protests. “And your gloves really are as impractical as they look.”
“Oh, I’d say they’ve more than served their purpose,” Alhaitham says inexplicably with a secretive smile.