treat 'im right
Rex doesn't want to overstep.
Lucky Seven's perfect, a shining silver so sharp that one wrong touch'd have you bleeding like a stuck armu. There's not much that can shake Rex these days, but he can't help the trepidation.
"Erm," he says. Clears his throat. "Hi, Fiora. I know this might be a little sudden..."
The sword waits.
"It's just, Shulk was yours first, is all. You're a pretty high bar to meet, but, I, er, think I could take care of him all right while you're away. You wouldn't mind, would you?"
She can't say anything, but he thinks she shines a little brighter.