As great a respect as she harbored for what had been the first sport to allow women to compete in the Olympic games, Phryne was certain that what lessons she had taken from her own brief foray into fencing would be surely miles away from anything she might learn under Porthos' tutelage. Fencing had allowed adrenaline and sweat, but had never seemed exactly practical with its myriad of rules of where you were and were not allowed to strike. An artform, certainly, but she had been more attracted to the older styles of the sport no longer in use. Daggers, and the like.

"Oh, I do like you," she told him, approvingly. Fencing was all well and good for the gymnasium, but it could not help you in a fight for your life. Given the situations she leapt into, one more weapon in her arsenal could only be a benefit. If it happened to come with a handsome Musketeer's attention for a time, all the better.

"I'm sure we could find some place," she said, drawing the pad of her thumb along the rim of her glass as she watched him from across the table. "The gymnasium, the gardens, perhaps. Or-" she let her words hang a moment before she smiled and added, "We could always begin in my room."