"It... that is..."

Madeleine blinks as she looks up at the synthetic fibers of the ear covers that about to slip on over her head. The fire burning in her eyes does nothing to disguise the happy wagging of her tail behind her. All of a sudden her pulse is racing; the only thing that keeps her body still are the ropes binding her in place. 

Those don't bother her anymore, in this new context. Not enough to take back her demands or comments, but it's simply not possible to stay upset about it any longer. Not set against the electricity suddenly surging through her body, arcing her back until it pulls on her restraints. Something in Machia's posture is different. The look in her eyes is different. Even this small pause is different. Madeleine feels her breath quicken, but she pushes it down into her stomach and holds it there until she can release it in one long, slow push. 

"Yes," she says, her voice sharp and ethereal, "I am."

She is being trained for the finals. Not to cover some absurd, embarrassingly basic weakness in her game, or to be lectured about what is a sword and what is a gun. She. Is being trained for the [i]finals[/i]. What can she possibly give, set against that understanding, other than her best? 

She closes her eyes, awaits the blindfold, and opens her ears to focus.