"Gladio." He grinned and took the hand offered in his one good hand. No, he didn't shatter the guys hand. While Gladio's grip was firm, it was also warm and his smile friendly. He wasn't trying to make a point of strength here.

"I help train fighters back home." Gladio replied. "I trained Noct. So yeah, I believe you when you say you can fight." And as if to prove it, the hand he'd been shaking he turned over so that Gladio could see the palm. They weren't the delicate, smooth hands of someone who didn't know what hard graft was. Which puzzled him given the way the kid had reacted toward being asked to clean up his own messes.

"Maybe one day you'll show me what you're made of." Gladio chuckled. "And I'll go easier on you next time you mess up the dining room."