[An open book. Clear as day. Whatever your metaphor of choice, it's all there. Her strength, he can see it in both her aura and her body. Her skill, he can see in her stance. Her anger, he can see blazing off of her like a fire. Her fear, he can see being drowned in that anger. And he can see her disgust in the way she holds her right arm. Not as a part of her but as an extension. Unwanted.

Fear. Anger. Hurt. Brashness. All coming together to take the place of pride, of the confidence of the warrior she falls just short of truly becoming. He sees all of this in her. He can see it because all of those things were once a part of himself as well.]

Do I? [He anticipates and adjusts, the slightest shift in his stance in preparation of the attack he seeks to draw in.] If you are going to boast, you should do it only after you have managed to strike me. If you can manage to do so.

[His blade flickers, a slight gesture of challenge.]

Come.