“Ja, well.” The young knight huffs, easily making the short and familiar leap from embarrassed to defensive in the space of two words “One of these times I’m going to be right.”
The amount of bluster in his words is surprising, even to Reinhardt. He’s not exactly a man accustomed to failure, though that being said studying under Balderich necessitated a certain ability to stomach the taste of defeat. In almost every other arena the young knight had revealed himself to be a very fast learner but this last and most crucial of skill sets was proving to be a rather elusive one.
But as with all difficult lessons, repetition is key.
At least this time nothing was actively on fire.
He’s a touch wobbly as he rises to his feet -perhaps he’d hit his head a bit harder than he’d thought- but manages to steady himself before it becomes too apparent. A problem for tomorrow’s Reinhardt, today’s has enough to deal with already.
The armor is probably as good a place as any to start; the suits were still intact but haphazardly heaped up against each other in the corner like a pair of drunks and the young knight can’t help but cringe inwardly at the amount of buffing he’s going have to do before his suit will be fit for his next inspection. Though with a touch of luck a generous amount of muscle they’ll hopefully be able to get both back on their feet without having to dismantle them.
Squatting down, he hooks his fingers under the edge of a pauldron, careful to avoid the curled claws of the sculpted griffins that adorn it. He catches Balderich’s eye before nodding at its twin on the other side of his armor.
“Help me with this, would you?”
Rising to his feet as well, Balderich grunted when a series of pops ripple down his spine. The initial feeling is painful but it gives way to comfort and allows his shoulders to slacken. “Remember to lift with those powerful legs of yours, not the back or you’ll sound like me. I’m not even that old and I crack like a water bottle being squeezed!” Rolling his right shoulder, and popping that to, he walks over to their propped up suits of armor to search for a good place to take hold. It was good they weren’t entangled but moving one would topple the other and cause great injury if it landed on a foot or leg.
Squatting whilst taking hold of his companion’s armor, he waited for the command to be given before muscling the heavy metal over just enough to free the second set. They’d need a power lift to truly make progress but this way made it possible to assemble the machine without damaging one or the other. The inspection tomorrow might have to wait considering he too needed to buff out the damage and repair a few minor plates and details. Lucky break for everyone else that might not be fully prepared, they were celebrating a major victory and inspections were the furthest thing in everyone’s mind.
“Get the lift, Reinhardt. Let’s gather your armor first and asses the damage. You’ve both won far to many battles for it to lie like a limp noodle on the floor.” He chuckled, turning away to gather a few tools from one of the many cabinets and shelves that lined the walls. “Thor would be most happy seeing his chosen warrior back back on his feet!” And ready to fight as they might have to deploy at a moments notice. Their headquarters wasn’t exactly as safe as the General wanted it to be but the Omnics were fast moving, self-replicating, and tirelessly advancing. He’d seen wounded ones fight alongside brand new units, some with obvious repairs while others were on their last limb. It matter not to the God AIs how many fell when five more could replace them.
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