Solomon took the writing tools with a nod of appreciation, strolled over to the edge of the 'arena,' and plopped down to write what they needed. The first half of the list was mostly reasonable stuff. Water, salt, sage leaves, religious paraphernalia, stuff one could find with relative ease and cheapness. However, as it went on, things became a bit less easily obtainable. Somewhere between 'silver bladed weapons' and 'armour blessed by a priest,' things began to get out of hand. There could, perhaps, be some sort of equivalent they could use. Stuffing themselves into plate armour every night would have been a pain anyway.<br/><br/>Salem, meanwhile, was paying attention to the things Aamu was saying. When she said duck, he did so, even though her first strike was not aimed at him. Still, it was a good reaction time. As he stood back up, he gave a quiet laugh at Joe's expense, then turned back to their mentor. She gave directions to fight, and he certainly wasn't going to say no. He turned, taking a few steps towards Joe as he slipped off the coat he'd never taken off. It was already covered in dirt from his tumble and roll down, so he tossed it aside for later. "If you insist," He said, getting into the closest thing to a fighting stance he knew how to hold. His smallish body frame made it less than intimidating, but he was sure he'd have some fun with it regardless.<br/><br/>Solomon peered up from behind the paper he was writing on, lipless mouth curling into the closest thing a smile his eternally-bared fangs could manage. "Oh, this ought to be good. Go on, Joe. Show the twig what you're made of." His words of encouragement, if they could be called that, were halfway between sincere and sarcastic. He was expecting nothing impressive from either of the boys during the daylight hours, but if they did pick up something they could put to use when the shifts came, then the session would be a success. He just hoped they managed to do something other than flail around and fall over.