People tell me last chapter wasn't total garbage. I still beg to differ, but as long as you like it I guess… :)

I'm just hoping this is the end of my slump in creativity.

Chapter the Sixth: In which Sparring is done, Friendship is brokered, and a common Understanding is reached.

Slate looked down at the note in his hand again. Nope, still didn't make a lick of sense.

Why would Yasmin want to meet him here at the roof of their dorm wing? In full combat gear, no less.

"Good, you're here. Let's get on with it, shall we?" He turned towards the voice of his partner.

"Yasmin… Mind telling me what's up?" Yasmin hefted Nightshade and let the flat side rest on her shoulder.

"Doctor Oobleck told me I should get to know my partner better if I want to succeed in this team, so that's exactly what I'm going to do…" She swung Nightshade forward in her hand in a circling motion, finishing in a ready position.

"… I'm going to beat the stuffing out of you." Slate reached for his swords strapped across his back.

"Heh. Bring it, girl." No sooner had he finished than Yasmin lunged, swiping at his head. He called out in shock as he barely parried with his swords.

"Dust! You're seriously trying to kill me, aren't you?" Yasmin grinned menacingly.

"So… tell me about yourself. Any siblings?" Slate blinked in confusion as he parried yet another strike, following it up with a counteroffensive of his own.

"… What?"

"You heard me. Tell me about you." Yasmin deftly jumped to avoid a low double swipe from Slate.

"Well… I grew up in central Vale as a middle child, mom and dad divorced when I was young…" Slate shifted his swords so he could fire a barrage of bullets at his opponent, but Yasmin was quick enough to deflect them with two swipes with Nightshade.

"… Any pets? Dogs? Cats? Lizards?"

"Dad had a dog before he split with mom. It died a few months after."

"… I'm sorry to hear that. What breed was he?"

"She was a Vacuan shepherd."

"How old was she when she died?" Slate and Yasmin locked swords, their faces so close she could almost count his eyelashes. Then she kicked him away and lunged after him.

"She was 10. I was 12. It hurt a lot seeing her go when she'd been there for most of my life." Yasmin gave him a sympathetic look.

"I can imagine… though she was old, so she had lived a long and eventful life. It… just happened to be her time."

"… You seem to know an awful lot about dogs. There's a story to it, I wager?"

"… Hm?" Yasmin swung Nightshade at Slate's legs, which he sidestepped.

"You're asking me a lot of things, only fair I get to know some stuff about you too."

"Okay. Fair's fair. What do you want to know?"

"How come you know so much about dogs?" Yasmin shrugged.

"Mom and dad run a breeding kennel out near Patch, it's been in business since before I was born. That's actually why I habitually spell my name with a 'Y' – most kennels pick their litters' names by alphabetical order. One litter with all names beginning with A, next one is B, et cetera et cetera." Yasmin danced around Slates swings as she talked, obviously not concerned at all by her opponents efforts to hit her.

"When I was born they had cycled over to Y again, and mom thought it'd be cute if I got a name beginning with Y as well."

"That actually is kind of cute. Any more things about you? Siblings?"

"Single child. Only family of real consequence really is my maternal younger aunt Anita. She's kind of horrible though."

"Hm?"

"She's a hard-core believer in Faunus supremacy over Humanity. Joined up with the White Fang once they jumped off the slippery slope as well." Yasmin sighed as she continued.

"That's why I react so badly to you casually slinging around insensitive remarks. They kind of strike a sore spot. Speaking of striking spots…" Yasmin dropped down into a spin, throwing out Slates legs from under him. Standing over her defeated opponent, she lowered Nightshade so the tip of the blade almost touched Slate's nose. She channelled her semblance into the special receivers she had incorporated throughout the zweihänder, making the blade crackle with blue electricity.

"… You give?" Slate raised his hands in defeat.

"I give." Yasmin helped him to his feet.

"Look, Yasmin – I'm a jerk, ok? I often let my mouth do the talking before my brain can approve. Had I known I was making you this uncomfortable, I'd have tried to be more considerate." He held out his hand towards her.

"Friends?" He was momentarily stunned as she instead of accepting his handshake grasped his forearm, but he quickly adjusted and returned the gesture as they hugged.

"Friends."

AN: I know a thing or two about dogs thanks to my parents, so… yeah.

Average lifespan for a German shepherd is 12-13 years, just FYI.

Yes, I know this is basically Trial by Campfire with a bit more chattiness, but I gotta write something.

Forearm handshake is inspired by the Jaffa of Stargate.

I do not own RWBY, that's RoosterTeeth and Monty Oum.