Quinn couldn't help but feel a wide grin spreading over her face as Sybil threw another punch at her. Her form was already better. Maybe she wasn't overthinking it so much? Standing at least a little bit side-on instead of uncomfortably stiff full forward. The punch wasn't as wide, and when it cracked into the glove with a sound like a gunshot she was pleasantly surprised: that fist hit a lot harder than she thought it would, though she didn't actually have many benchmarks to measure it against. She couldn't keep the genuine enthusiasm out of her voice as she gushed, "[color=ffe63d]that was a [i]solid hit![/i] Throw me another one![/color]"

[hr]
By the time Quinn stepped back off the mat again, a good chunk of time had passed. She wasn't quite sure, since she didn't know exactly when she and Sibyl had started; but it was long enough that the palms of her hands were throbbing from repeated hits, and she was sore in a few more places. She grimaced as she rubbed her collarbone where she'd bruised it against the obstacle course yesterday. That was gonna sting for a while.

Still, she was better off than Sibyl was. The girl looked [i]super[/i] drained. Quinn couldn't blame her, of course, when she'd started she could barely go for half an hour with Dahlia without taking a break, and she thought it must have been at least three times that. She'd given her some advice on how to throw a solid punch (complete with demonstration on Sibyl's glove), where to keep your hands to make sure you had your guard up, how to stand to make sure you wouldn't get taken aback and overbalance yourself, and so on and so forth. Things like that: stuff that Dahlia had told her those months ago. It was her first foray into being the [i]teacher,[/i] and she found it...surprisingly fun, actually.

Shaking out her hands with a hiss, she popped the top on her water bottle again, mildly surprised at how much she'd chugged over the course of only a few drinks. Must've been more dehydrated than she thought. She nearly drained the thing, then she gave a long breath as she looked back at the older girl, organizing her thoughts.

"[color=ffe63d]I think your biggest problem is that you're trying to fight like him. Similar stance and all. Which isn't inherently bad, he [i]is[/i] a good fighter.[/color]" She nodded to Cyril off to the side, somewhat surprised he'd actually stuck around. "[color=ffe63d]But, different people do better with different ways to fight. Like how I use my legs more because my depth perception isn't so great,[/color]" she tapped her eyepatch lightly, "[color=ffe63d]or how Dahlia—er, St. Senn weaves in and out more than most so she doesn't take unnecessary hits since [i]Dragon[/i] is kinda fragile.[/color]" She gave a little shrug. "[color=ffe63d]I'm not psychic, obviously, but it feels to me like it just doesn't super fit you.[/color]" 

Flexing her fingers—they were a little stiff—and cracking her knuckles, she gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "[color=ffe63d]Try something new next time you spar. Not something anyone can really teach you, just gotta figure it out on your own. Might be worse at first, but I'm sure it'll pay off when you find what you're looking for![/color]"

She took another long, deep breath—which, after the day she'd had, transmuted into a yawn—then turned over to Cyril, looking at him a bit apologetically—he'd stuck around this long, he clearly cared and she felt bad for assuming the worst—and finally taking the time to address his own major error. "[color=ffe63d]You probably would've gotten me, honestly. Just got a little too aggressive, and it left you just open enough for me to get a kick in.[/color]" She leaned against the wall, then slid down to sit on the floor, shucking the gloves off and tossing them over towards the basket. And missing. She'd pick 'em up later. "[color=ffe63d]If you'd kept your hands closer in and your guard up better I'd prob'ly have been on the floor.[/color]"

"[color=ffe63d]This was fun. We should do it again soon.[/color]"