The sword stayed in her hand, not gripped as tight. Her hand moved, swung, and became more used to the sword. They were not fencing movements of a true sort, but the witch liked to know any sword of hers quite well, like an individual with its own characteristics. Even with standardized fencing weapons, using one foil or sabre was not the same as the next.
Her eyes glanced over at him, and Felixa smiled - not as light as before, though no malicious intent was directed at him - "I focused as if it had." She had imagined it to be him.
"I like the air here, even if it is hot and sweaty," she added with a second thought.