About an hour later I am dripping with sweat and flushed all over from a mixture of sheer exhaustion and the lingering dregs of adrenaline. The sparring between Dreyfus and I has been nothing short of draining, especially considering the breaks we took (when he permissed it), were few and far between. 'To build your stamina', he had claimed, but all it seemed to result in was leaving me breathless and stitches of pain all up my side.
Dreyfus, however, looks better than ever. A faint flush to broad face, and a gleam of gleeful anticipation shining in his eyes like twinkles of moonlight through a cloudy sky. He appears to be enjoying himself.
I, however, am not.
