Alanna would argue that it's not the Shang that seems off, but her instead. Leg extended, she holds a position with intense concentration, grunting in frustration when sweat beads across her forehead. She moves slowly, carefully, making every move count. In a discipline that so relies on speed, it's odd to go about practicing quite this way, but she's working on control.

Kick, spin, crouch down, punch. She focuses, feeling each muscle work, and there's something almost feral about her smile.

Warm up complete, she rolls her shoulders and draws her blade with one smooth motion. Only then does she look at Miho.

"Hullo."