As usual, Blackwall was paying little attention to anyone else using the practice dummies, focused instead on what he was doing. A very discerning eye might've recognized the exercises as vaguely Orlesian even with Blackwall's own unique take on them.

He pauses when it becomes obvious the young man is speaking to him, straightening up and out of his fighting stance for a moment to consider him and raise his sword arm to wipe some of the sweat off his brow. No weapons, he notes. Odd.

"Sure. Swordfighting," He replies evenly, though he's obviously being a smart ass.