I believe you, cause Lord knows I've beaten a whole group of warlords while in my underclothes but somehow that seems a lot easier than kisses.

I used to train, when I was a child and my Da was alive. I'm good with a sword, good dancer, good at driving knights wild... not as good as I'd like to be at picking moments of... uh. Intimacy?

Not so much a matter of not believing so much as not being used to being myself without someone waiting to tell me the sixteen ways I committed treason against the crown and human decency that day. Save a child? Dungeon. Wear a tight dress? Reduced to a useful ornament. Manage to fight your way out of the woods in your underwear and want to go back for your friend? Dropped off home and told to behave... Until recently the computer felt like a breath of fresh air, honestly. It may tell me what to do, but it's not on account of my sex.