The smile and the compliment are sweet and he's ready to take it with an embarrassed duck of the head before Eponine continues- and then all he can do is tense. Beating a child- a defenseless young woman-- her own family, even-- it's too much for Warsman to hear without reaction, an untimely reminder of just how many bullies there are in this world and any other. Wherever there are people, it seems, there are men without compassion.

Eponine's hand over his own draws him back from his silent fury, at least. He stops, momentarily thrown, and then the wave of tension subsides. Rather his company than... his eyes soften. It's been a long while since he's heard someone actively ask for his presence in quite this way, and it's... it's touching. And, more than anything, he wants for her to feel safe.

"... of course." Then, on a whim, he adds, "I'd like that a lot."

He puts his wallet away, eyes moving uncertainly to Eponine's face to try and work out how to proceed; he already feels as though he's played his emotional hand too early, as it were, but he trusts her enough that it doesn't feel quite so awkward as it might. "I'm a wrestler," he continues eventually. "I'm ranked number one in Russia in my world, but as far as I'm concerned I'm just one in a team of incredible fighters from all over." And the product of an even more incredible teacher. The thought stays with him, and a second later he finds himself asking a very tentative question. "Has anyone ever taught you self-defense? You might feel safer if you could fight back."