She didn't really need to tell him that fencing - or anything of this nature, really - could work up other appetites. The kind of girl Marek was used to hanging out with were generally the violent type, after all, and sex was usually all tangled up in blood and pain in their minds. He understood it, to an extent, although it was sort of an indirect turn-on for him. The look in their eyes, the extra, inviting swing of their hips that told him what they were thinking about, not specifically the act of torturing or killing itself.
He didn't see that look in her eyes now, but she was smiling at him, and his grin widened in response. "I wasn't aware there was only one correct question," he said. "Does that mean I win a little tour of Italy?"