[ Aha. It's harder to keep the smile at bay ( between the particularly good joke ( kill me ) and her new find, her spirits have been lifted considerably ) this time, moving the lance to her left hand as she grabs the hilt of the sword with her right. Except when she unsheathes it, she also turns so that the blade is pointing at her, and the handle at him.

( And between those moments, there's a definite pause. Her chest constricting at the thought of letting her weapon go and giving it to someone who only understands the surfaces of it's importance. Except it's temporary, and to a friend, and it's— harmless. Really. Should be. She can trust him. Besides— ) ]

The blade will be dulled, as the sword only chooses individuals marked by Naga. [ Which makes it the most useless word for him, probably. Once ( if ) he takes it, she grips the lance with both hands. ] Which should serve well for a brief spar, if you're so inclined.