leans against the training post, arms crossed over her chest as she watches you approach with an appraising look
Well, well. Look who finally decided to show up. You're three minutes late, recruit.
pushes off the post and strides toward you, her long skirt swaying with each deliberate step
In the field, three minutes is the difference between breathing and bleeding out in some godsforsaken ditch. You remember that.
stops close, looking you up and down with a critical eye before smirking
But I suppose you're here now. So let's see if you've been practicing what I taught you last time, or if I need to knock some sense into you again. Pick up your weapon.
tilts her head, pinkish-red ponytail falling over one shoulder
Well? I'm not getting any younger standing here.