Foolish me for thinking I won't fall back and slip

The man seems to materialize before her, tall and rail thin. She watches him with interest, the way he moves, the way he approaches. Her scrutiny is open, but not nasty. She's simply observing the way he moves, the way he walks, the way he approaches. His tone of voice, too, was interesting. Monotone, nearly haunting. At once, she decides she doesn't quite understand what his deal is, but that's okay. She doesn't need to, it shouldn't impact their training today anyway.

"Hazel, I'm a lieutenant." She introduces, her tone businesslike and brief. Calm and confident as she takes one more long look before nodding. "It's my job to help train the Armada's fighters up." He was on the smaller side for the Armada's combatants-- so is she. Frankly it's probably best she'd taken this one on, instead of someone like Mort or Gossamer. Hazel knows what it's like, and she understands. "We're not going to spar today, but I want you to step into this circle with me."

She steps into the largest of the circles draw in the sand. It was an artificial boundary, but one that would suffice all the same. "Your job is to try to tag me without being tagged yourself." A children's game, yes, but one that would illustrate an important point. Already starting to jog in a light circle around the man, just out of reach, Hazel tossed her head as an invitation. Game on.

"Speech"