Still Got the Rock Finished

Kaegen climbed up onto the girl's bed from where he had been hanging out under her bed.
"Yeah, how's your arm?"
He looked at it, more curious than worried, but his eyes wouldn't stay in one place for long, they started up again, flashing around. He tried to figure out what would posses someone to think that knives would make good pitons for climbing stone towers. He tried to discover where her mind went, what she kept thinking about. Well, he had been thinking about it. The nurse had said the arm shouldn't hurt more than a few hours after relocation. It had been a whole night's sleep, she should be fine. He really needed to test this theory. Whipping out a roughly-carved wooden knife from his pocket that he had been working on as she slept, he threw it slowly at the girl. It might leave a bruise if it hit, but it was pretty easy to catch. If someone had decent reflexes and muscle memory, it would be more than enough to catch the knife. If she caught it, it would certainly help his theory along. If it hit her, then he would have to apologize for hitting her with a piece of wood.

Blinking confusedly, Cel whipped up her arm to catch the wood by instinct, then grimaced, narrowing her eyes as her shoulder bones ached in protest. The stone in her hand dropped onto the mattress beneath the blankets.
"Seems fine, just taking a bit more time to recover than most people's shoulders do. That's normal," she added, taking the hilt of the knife in her good arm to pick up the rounded rock and the other blade in her injured one. Well, that was a lie. If anything, her wounds usually took less time, but she always seemed to receive phantom pains after nothing at all was wrong with the injury, only for a couple of hours. Too drowsy from forced sleep to elaborate, though, Cel decided not to say anything.
Instead, she turned the long piece of wood, shifting her grip constantly. It definitely wasn't as finely made as the other knife and would probably take a bit more of pressure to cut, crudely carved and not used often. Cel tossed it back gently before holding up the knife and stone.
"I'm thinking you'll probably want these back? Sorry I scratched up the knife, but it should be fine after a good whetting."

He had been right, gloriously, gloriously right!
His smile grew a bit as he looked at the girl in the bed in front of him. Sure he had questions, but they wheren't too very pressing, and it might be fun to see what he could find out from observation.
After all, he thought as he took the rock and knife from the girl, she knew how to use a knife, but not how to treat one. She probably never had anyone to tell her how this worked.
It was kinda sad to see someone, apparently so well versed in the using of knives as weapons that she never thought to pay attention to how they were holding up. Her comment about the whetting further proved his theory. So maybe she was self taught? If she didn't have a mentor she wouldn't know any of this. It would make sense.
He half made up his mind to teach her, but then decided against it. The last thing she needed was him all up in her face about what a scratch was and what a whetstone was, and how you fixed a scratch and used a whetstone. He'd probably sound all self-righteous.
So, if she didn't have anyone to teach her, why'd she learn to get so good with them?

Cel scanned over his face, trying her best to read him. Hmm... harder than some, but not a mask of stone like her own. Perhaps she could drop hers for today. After all, he probably-- probably-- wouldn't react as others usually would... right? He seemed curious-- about what, she couldn't tell. Probably something about her, because, well, what else was there to be curious about, anyway?
She moved her arm slightly, testing the limits of her shoulder as she began to speak. "What else have you got there, other than the knife and the slingshot?" the girl asked curiously. Earlier when he had lifted his school robe to reveal the extensive leather and equipment he had worn beneath, she had glimpsed a couple of jars and vials with moving entities inside of them. Though not sure why someone would carry creatures, magical or not magical, around on their bodies, Cel had always been fascinated by animals, especially magical ones. She'd read about them extensively on her many midnight reading sprees, engorging herself on rather irrelevant knowledge that she probably would never need. Sometimes she would read about the other aspects of magic as well, especially DADA and Transfiguration, but her heart stayed with physical, 'muggle' aspects of combat.

Kaegen ran over his mental checklist. He had some leaves, some sticks, some probably magical plants, some probably not magical plants but you never knew, he had too many creatures to realistically keep track of, he had several knives, a blowgun but no darts, his slingshot, that one shiny rock, that one not shiny rock, the pebble that was just sitting there in the middle of the road, a needle, some thread, a lot of rope, some gloves, a blowgun but no... wait he already checked that off.
Kaegen backpedaled, forgetting where he was in the stupid mental checklist. Had he remembered the vines? Yeah, probably. Or no, he already thought about the vines.
Giving up in mental frustration Kaegen simply answered with
"Stuff"
and then kept thinking. One of these days he was going to have to test this girl, her skills were far too interesting to slip from his memory. Or perhaps the fact that she knew how to handle a knife, but not to take care of one. It was something that Grandfather had always told him. 'you can tell a lot about someone by how they handle a knife, you suicidal idjit.'
Even if he wasn't the best at reading people, he was very good with knives. But as he was thinking about the proper care of knives, he realized something. He broke two windows. Sure they could easily be fixed but he really didn't want to stick around to find out what kind of torture they had prepared for those who broke windows. They'd honestly never find him, I mean there were so many other students!
Helping the girl up, Kaegen escaped with his window breaking cohort, never to be be seen again by those who would follow with threats of detention.