Private Training (p)

Chris stood up and tossed his empty can into the bin. "Took you long enough." Even though he was ten minutes early.
The son of Ares gave his sword a spin and scratched his back with the flat of the blade. Cypress looked distracting in his armour so he glanced around at the dummies to prevent himself from staring. He wasn't gay, but this son of Demeter was simply, objectively, ...hot as f#ck.

"Lose the sword. We're gonna do some knife work," he decided.

"Think fast." Chris spun a knife through the air. It was a military knife with a wide, aggressive blade and a serrated edge. "Cool thing about knives, they're great for both short and long range. But long range only works if you got some precision, or train insane amount of hours." Chris slid a knife out of his back pocket. "What you wanna do with a knife is hit the main arteries. You know where they are?"

"Yeah, yeah," Chris waved it off. "Moving on."

He strode over to a dummy and tapped his knife against its armour. "Neck and leg are some of them. You got shoulder," he stabbed the dummy, "upper arm, lower arm," he stabbed inside the elbow," wrist, abdomen, knee, ankle too if you're feeling cheeky." Every time he listed a body part, the dummy got a stab. "These are the places you wanna go for when you're fighting with a knife. You hit the artery and unless they got some magical superhealing powers, you're done and dusted. My personal favourites: neck, armpit, inner thigh." He grinned, "You bleed out like a pig if you hit any them."