"You are faster than the last big guy I used to spar with. Sneakier too." It's said with a solid appreciation for the speed and sneak as he takes Locus' hand, pulling himself up with a grunt. "I'll get you next round."

He might, he might not, but the bravado helps as he pats Locus' arm and takes a few steps back, hands going up. None of the loose, flippant ease is present. Now? Locus has his full attention.