[Upon Riza's suggestion he retracts his arm to place upon the stone slab his other arm, just as sturdy as its brother but weakened by a wound which he lately acquired in the swamps, which is marked by a thin scar lining the inner curve of his forearm. Still he prays it will not impede him too terribly, now that he must wrestle against what McCree had declared the impossible challenge.]
Very well - I should find it to my liking to now test my strength against your arm of grey iron, McCree.
[Then he sees that his opponent begins to unfasten his shirt in answer to Sieglinde's shouting, and he wonders if he ought to follow suit: it hardly seems strange to him when the wrestling matches of the Achaeans are fought with bodies bare and skin slicked with oil. Perhaps this too is a tradition of McCree's people. With so many bodies pressed around them, the space grows warm despite the chill of the cavern, and he would welcome the freedom of movement. Thus he sets to unpinning the chiton from his shoulders, folding and tucking the excess cloth into the girdle tied around his waist.
With his torso thus bared, the muscles beneath his bronze skin appearing as if purposefully carved from marble, Achilles anchors his arm once again to the stone and seizes McCree's metal hand. He is surprised by the warmth that pulses within his grasp, and it is then that he fully realizes what the man had meant by a prosthetic: it truly is an extension of his body rather than something added on as armor would be. He meets McCree's eye.]
what went wrong in my life to bring me to this point
Very well - I should find it to my liking to now test my strength against your arm of grey iron, McCree.
[Then he sees that his opponent begins to unfasten his shirt in answer to Sieglinde's shouting, and he wonders if he ought to follow suit: it hardly seems strange to him when the wrestling matches of the Achaeans are fought with bodies bare and skin slicked with oil. Perhaps this too is a tradition of McCree's people. With so many bodies pressed around them, the space grows warm despite the chill of the cavern, and he would welcome the freedom of movement. Thus he sets to unpinning the chiton from his shoulders, folding and tucking the excess cloth into the girdle tied around his waist.
With his torso thus bared, the muscles beneath his bronze skin appearing as if purposefully carved from marble, Achilles anchors his arm once again to the stone and seizes McCree's metal hand. He is surprised by the warmth that pulses within his grasp, and it is then that he fully realizes what the man had meant by a prosthetic: it truly is an extension of his body rather than something added on as armor would be. He meets McCree's eye.]
I am ready.