Estinien shoots him an incredulous look, grin wry, but expression warm and amused. Even he must admit to himself, beyond mere physical attraction, there is much to admire about Aymeric. Not least of all, his tenacity. But... those are things to be noticed in private. Not in front of a crowd. He points a gloved thumb over his shoulder, toward the still assembled onlookers, "Let's at least get away from this lot, first. I can barely hear myself think."

He's never cared for crowds, for attention, for anything remotely like adulation. Attentive gazes, hushed whispers -- he doesn't know what to do with them, and so he balks. Turns on his heel, ready to leave the training field behind, but... he doesn't just go. He waits, to be sure Aymeric is following, and doesn't speak until he's fetched his waterskin and a fresh towel from a nearby bench.

The skin, he offers to Aymeric, along with his first question, "You're House Borel, right?" He towels the sweat from his brow. "What're your grand plans once you've finished obligatory service? Politics? Clergy? Leisure?"