[He pushes his chair back and she's quickly moving to do the same, wooden legs grinding out an ugly squeal as she scrapes them against the ground. Her hands already itch for the feel of her blade, the weight of it, the cold press of steel, and she's bounding swiftly toward where it leans against the wall the moment she gains her feet. To her, at least, it feels as though the weight of their previous conversation is being stripped away in layers, leaving only the fast-ascending thrill of an oncoming fight in their wake.

She can be fairly one-track minded like that.]

Huh. Good question. Both options have their merits...how about a clear field this first time? We can always liven things up later. You know, once we've got a feel for each other's technique.