His attempt to take the man down didn't work, but that should have been no surprise. If Castiel had taught Annabeth to do it, he surely knew how to avoid it just as easily.

As predicted, he tried to move in close again and before Dresden could swing his sword, his right hand felt the sting of the wooden blade. Blunt and heavy, his knuckles immediately began to bleed and the sudden pain had Dresden dropping his sword to the ground.

Losing a weapon might have meant yielding to some people, but when you grew up fighting with no weapons, it meant little. He couldn't sword fight with his left like he could his right, so as soon as the sword fell to the ground, Dresden picked it up with his left and tossed it toward Castiel's face. Just chucked it.

Before he ever checked to see if the man slapped the sword away or not, he ducked down low and lunged to tackle the man to the ground instead.

Castiel smirked that his smack made the man drop his weapon, only for him to pick it back up and throw it at him. He certainly didn't expect that and definitely didn't have the time to stop the rhinoceros that barreled into him seconds after.

To the ground they'd fall, and if Dresden insisted on holding him there, he'd lift his foot swiftly to kick him in the family jewels. Surely that would give him enough time to free himself. Hand to hand, yes, he could do this.

The tackle was effective and once they were both down, Dresden attempted to gain control by finding his way on top of Castiel. No luck, though. Instead, before he could fully straddle the man, one leg lifted and connected swiftly where it was meant to.

Castiel merely shoved the man off of him, getting to his own knees, then his feet. He'd offer Dresden a hand. "First blood, flight's over," he stated clearly. There's be no winner this time as any number of things could cause a nosebleed, but if they continued then it could mean bad things for the man's health.

If Dresden took his hand, he'd pull him to his feet, and start guiding him off the courtyard. "Let's get you to a healer before that kick leaves permanent damage. Good fight, by the way."

Instead of continuing the fight, the man opted to offer him a hand. Dresden stared at it for a long few moments, distrusting, but finally nodded once and took the offered hand. He paused there for a moment, huffing and wiping his nose with the back of his already bloodied knuckles. When Cas attempted to pull him toward a healer, he lifted his palm and shook his head. "I'm good, man, really," he reached down, adjusting himself slightly, then laughing to himself.

He didn't want to be healed. He preferred to be sore. To live through the pain, no matter what kind of pain it was. He hadn't expected such civility to result from it, though. "You, too. You don't know how much I needed that fight," he walked over to the dummy and grabbed the legionnaire's jacket he'd draped over it. He didn't owe Annabeth Andino anything, but this man had given him something he needed.

"Look, if this was all 'bout the lady...nothin' happened. Them rumors, ya know? She came at me in the courtyard 'cause she was upset about the rumors 'round me and Lady Kane. But she gave me a talkin' to and left. And earlier, well," he pointed to his bloody nose. "This is from her. Nothin' soft 'bout it."

Castiel could respect that Dresden wanted to heal naturally. Their fight had done him some good too, as he was no longer feeling the same level of rage that he had been. That is, until Dresden brought her up.

"I don't want to hear about it," came the blunt reply. "She betrayed my trust. She hurt me more than you might know. But, if you must train with her, ensure there's more than a few guards around. You wouldn't want scandal to drag your name through the mud as it already has begun to with mine."

He offered a handshake, regardless. "I hope to spar with you again. You have potential, but perhaps keep one arm high to protect your nose." He paused briefly. "What's your name?"

"Hey, y'all's problems ain't mine," he agreed with a shrug. "Just tellin' my side of it. I came out here to train by myself today. Ain't no help to me sparrin' with a Lady I can't really fight back against." He slipped a now throbbing left arm into his Legionnaire's jacket, followed by his right. Just easier to wear it than carry it around, but he didn't bother buttoning it back up.

"Yeaahh," he grinned at that, a sigh. "I gotta work on that. No wonder I always end up with black eyes, ay?" He cleaned his hand off as much as he could on his pants, thinking he'd surely look like a raccoon soon after being kneed in the face in his spar with Annabeth. "Dresden Drake. Commoner. So...no name to drag, my lord," it was curious, the way he was acting about Annabeth, but Dresden wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dresden Drake. Castiel would remember that.

"Don't sell yourself short just because you're a commoner now. There is always the chance you could earn a title in some way. Better to keep your name clean so when that day comes its not immediately marred."

He'd grab the two swords they'd been practicing with and tossed them with the other practice weapons that were no good any longer. "If you ever need to practice, I come out here to train at dawn most days." What point was there being angry at a man who had no fault in their meeting? Likely he had no idea that Annabeth had said she wouldn't see him again, so Castiel decided to let bygones be bygones there.