Leila did not feel nervous.
Why would she? She didn't want to win. She was no general. Why would she want to mess around with a load of ignorant macho men and talk about fighting when she could actually BE fighting?
She's in her bunk, playing her violin and trying to master Hysteria by Muse, a true classic if ever there was one. She hums the note before trying to play it to no avail. This music business was harder than it looked.
Leila sighed and began to make for town hall, after picking up her blades and coat, of course. She takes a winding path through the darker shady streets; her pale skin burns easily in the Texas Sun, but still manages to get there early. She sits down in the front row, hoping to at least be amused by the attempts of some of the other candidates.