"If you ever want to learn, you can come find me." Everyone should at least have a firm grounding in the scientific method, Donatello thinks. Especially in a place like this.

The turtle takes the sword and draws it from its sheath, getting a grip on it (the handle far too small for his hand) and swishing it through the air a few times before resheathing it and handing it back to the child in both hands. "It seems like a good blade, but it's not balanced right for me, I'm afraid."

He shakes his head, still smiling. "I have to disagree with you about weapons and their wielders being partners. A weapon is only a tool. I've seen my father fight rings around multiple heavily armed men with only his walking stick or his bare hands. And my father is a four-foot tall elderly rat." Pause. "I'm adopted, he's not my father by birth." Heading off the obvious question there.