If Hemingway hadn't been happy to stop and chat, he would certainly have just continued his workout, not caring a jot if it seemed rude. They were somewhat similar in that regard - they knew that in this world, you had to take what you wanted, social etiquette be damned.
"That all depends," he smirked, dropping his towel again and lifting a water bottle to take a sip and rehydrate a little. "Are you going to rescue the poor thing, and offer yourself up in its place?" he asked of her, in a light, almost teasing tone. The worst of his current thoughts had been truly obliterated by the training, and it was always more enjoyable fighting with a real partner in terms of brainwork and skill involved.