He was going to make her work for it...jerk. The thought came with more amusement than real annoyance, so she smile and rolled her eyes.

"You're a master swordsman, the deadliest hand to ever hold a blade." she pressed, switching to French. It was kind of nice to be able to go back and forth with her uncles that way...even the ones who didn't want to be her uncle...some things didn't translate as well into English, and some things just came with a little more eloquence in French.

"My skill with a sword is pretty rudimentary, and perfect aim is no substitute for technical skill and good form. Perfection is what separates me from any normal human: I don't miss, and I get to live another day. One day, should I need to wield a sword instead of my bow, or even a gun...I need to be as good as you are, if not better."