As someone who assumes space and attention without ever really fighting for it, Jaime matches easily with Seoraj's easy concession of talking room without really thinking about it. Jaime assumes the angle of the question as; "Spears, and curved blades. I was gifted one, once. I thought it looked a bit of a farming tool, but when you consider that they war on horseback, with no heavy armor to contend with, it does make a sort of sense, for barbarians. Ours are designed to pierce."

His hand comes to settle on the hilt of his own blade, the sidearm of the sword world in its reasonable length, able to be used with one hand if you have some strength to your arm. "My preference," he adds.

The light winter rains are missed, bringing up a hand to rustle away flecks of fallen, melting ice out of blonde hair. "I yearn for a decent swordsman, in the Westoros style. They let damn near anyone in here." Not that they aren't formidable foes, but it's harder to be a sword prodigy against, say, a battle axe, or a magical staff. Also, girls.