It wasn't a sword-fighting stance, but it wouldn't be, would it? But between D'Artagnan teaching Constance, her watching him train with the others, and seeing the cadets at practice, she knew the importance of having the proper posture for the act. She didn't have to understand what he was saying to hear similar instructions in her memory.

She stood, the flick of her hand adjusting her skirts so practiced it happened subconsciously while right then she wasn't thinking about them or that sort of proper. Her gaze traveled from him to her imagined target and back several times as she adjusted her stance. When she felt it matched his, the arm holding the knife moved through its arc once again. That did feel better, and she smiled briefly, before the eagerness to learn something new faded under more pressing matters.

"But you didn't come in here for me to pester you. You wanted food." She waved him back toward his plate. "I can wheedle lessons from you later."