[Despite himself? Despite the intensity of the moment? He can't help but admit there's a certain rush to fighting someone like this. For as similar as they are, there are slight differences in how they decide to fight.

Maybe this means one of them can actually win. He just hopes it isn't her.

As she stumbles away from him he pulls the sword back up in front of him, tense and ready, but when he sees she's gasping for breath he takes this second to take in an extra breath himself. Fighting at a breakneck pace like this is exhausting, and while he's willing to bet the tome still works, he's still at close enough range to retaliate against either weapon should she suddenly try and switch things up.]

She is, I know. Well, he is. You know what I mean. But that's Robin, and right now? He's Grima, not Robin!

[There's a strange edge to his voice as he speaks that, a certain conviction to the wa he says it.]

Think for a minute, why would he up and start calling himself Grima for no reason? He's being controlled! [And although his sword is ready, if she suddenly tries to use her tome his other hand is drifting around his own tome, ready to switch at a split seconds notice.]