"Apparently not," he agrees, circling with him, anticipation running through him, his heartbeat high and fast, oh so ready for it.
He startles when the sword comes out of nowhere, passing close enough that he can feel the rush of air - and then he grins as he tugs it out of the ground and hefts it a few times to get the feel of its weight. He's not a master swordsman, but he can hold his own.
"What do you get?" he asks, starting to twirl the sword a bit in an unconscious echo of the Chinese Slayer, just because it's the kind of sword that's just asking to be twirled.
((OOC: I had a look at that fight yesterday, just for fun - a whole lot of sword-twirling and kicking!))