“So you've actually fought Grimm before!?” Mary seemed incredulous.
Abel's eyebrows furrowed. This must be one of those sheltered ones. What was this girl doing here if she hadn't faced Grimm? He was fairly sure that was a prerequisite or something, not that he remembered a single thing on the forms he had signed. “Yeah, yeah. It's what I do. My family too. We're a long line of Guardians.” He allowed the faunus girl to marvel over that for a moment before posing the question. “Why are you here if you've never fought the monsters?”
For a moment, Mary seemed taken aback. Gone was her cheer, replaced by indignant silence. Her hyperactive tongue was quick to resume working, though. “What's the matter with that? Not everyone has to tough it out on the edge of the world. At Flare, we sparred each other. People are much smarter than the Grimm, but in a classroom setting, they're not so deadly. Learn more, die less. I bet I could beat you in a fight. All those hours standing on some wall must have dulled your reflexes.”

She didn't receive a response right away. Abel exhaled deeply, searching for the right words. Were all faunus this sensitive? “We have chairs,” he finally proclaimed. “And security cameras. Standing around doing nothing is just...medieval.” Mary's aggressiveness died down when she failed to get a rise out of him, and her curt frown transformed into an encouraging smile. “Yeah, I guess,” she admitted. “Still, I'd like to fight you some time. A real east-meets-west!”

Abel held his hands up in placation. “Let's see about whatever the headmaster has to say first. Don't want to sour our very first day with a scuffle.”

Ironically, just as he said that and the two soon-to-be students set foot on Beacon grounds for the first time from the airship, such a scuffle unfolded in front of them. Another student that Abel dimly remembered seeing aboard the ship had just floored a guy that he didn't recognize, crushing him into the stonework beneath her heels after leaping unnaturally high. As the girl muttered and sauntered away toward the school, Abel dismissed Mary with a quick, “See you later,” and rushed to help him up. He held out a hand for Maxwell, who was rubbing a slight trickle of blood from his nose. For a moment Maxwell looked up at him suspiciously, then seemingly accepted his help by wiping the blood off on his shirt and taking Abel's hand.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, clearly resentful that he was obliged to someone else, particularly someone who easily stood an inch above him. “You wanna fight me too?” Abel's incredulous expression spoke for him, and Maxwell was quick to retort. “This is nothing,” he declared, pointing at his nose. “Takes more than that to put a Booster down.”
Instead, Abel posed his own question. “Why'd the blonde chick hit you? You picking fights?”
“Kinda. I'm trying to find the best fighters to join my team. Land a hit on me and you're good to go.”
If he hadn't needed to keep the Ampere from clanking to the ground, Abel would have crossed your arms. “Is it working? Didn't seem like she thought you were much of a leader. Take care of yourself, man.”

With an indicative shrug, Abel left Maxwell to think about that, and continue wiping the blood from his upper lip. He followed the crowd, unsure of exactly where to go.