Ysalwen, not expecting him to turn on her with his fake weapon, flails mightily and gets her own blade knocked out of her hand.

"Maker have mercy, what are you -- What are we -- Who are Hamlet and Laertes?"

That last really is delivered in an intense hissing whisper as she dives after her dropped sword, coming down on her shoulder and rolling to her feet in a low fighting crouch.

Something certainly seems to have changed. She looks a lot less lost, for one. Except --

"Have at thee, as well, Laertes?"

Several of the other people on the -- stage, is it a stage? -- are glaring at them now, but at least the woman with the cup is too busy fending off Liranan's enthusiastic 'hey, you're healthy!' licking to join in the effort.

And Ysalwen is swinging her shitty fake sword at Lesgle, careful yet persistent. How flashy does he want to be, with this whatever-they-are-doing?

Hints would be welcome. So, so welcome.