Quinn nodded, half to Sybil and half to herself. "[color=ffe63d]Mhmm, I thought so.[/color]" Dropping her water bottle back down, she stepped back on the mat, wearing a smile that she thought might've been comforting, though she wasn't exactly sure. She wasn't used to wearing comforting smiles and was mostly imitating the rest of her family and Safie. She paused for a moment before she answered Sybil's question: "[color=ffe63d]'Cause you're fighting like I did.[/color]" She left out the part about growing up in isolation, of course. 

"[color=ffe63d]When I first started fighting, I was [i]really[/i] bad. [i]So[/i] bad. Way worse.[/color]" She pulled her leg back and made an intentionally sloppy wide kick, the kind she hadn't made in a long time. She was so unused to it she overbalanced, tottered, and fell on her ass with an [i]oof![/i] She laughed a little in embarrassment, scraped herself off the ground, then continued. "[color=ffe63d]If Dahlia had just punched me in the face and knocked me down every time we sparred,[/color]" she gave Cyril a sidelong look, something like a glare. Sybil had clearly expected her to hit back, and hit back hard. "[color=ffe63d]I wouldn't have learned much at all. Before I started fighting I needed to learn [i]how[/i] to fight.[/color]" 

She let that hang on the air for a bit, then looked back at Sybil, unable to help seeing herself from a few months back now. She hoped she didn't sound condescending. Then, trying to remember what Dahlia had done when she'd first started, she held her hands out, not as fists, but open: an invitation.

"[color=ffe63d]So hit me![/color]"