D'Artagnan was aware of the nervous and shy young man entering the room. Though the six-foot tall turtle had not looked up from his book until Ilya had passed by him. He let him get settled before quietly closing his book and setting it aside. He took a breath and stood at the greeting.

"Good morrow, young sir," he said jovially as he offered his hand for a-clasping. He didn't even seem to mind the lack of eye contact. "Ilya is it said? Well, you may call me D'Artagnan. Finest swordsman in all of... this Xavier's dorm."

He had been going to say in all this land, but he had boasted that in front of the wrong person. That had been an embarrassing lesson.