Dammit. 

I took a moment to collect myself, my face unreadable. It was hard even for me to know whether I felt anger, sorrow, or amusement, or whether I was impressed. A mixture of all was the most likely, and mechanically I lowered my gun, switched the safety on and idly tossed it onto the table. I turned on her, and I was angry for the merest moment. Not the righteous anger of an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor, but Hadrian Drakos with a cheeky peer. "You..." but it evaporated instantly, and I actually felt a smile trying to make its way onto my face. Yes, I could petition to do it again, but this was a lesson for me as well. Never get cocky or distracted, something I seemed to have a habit of doing around Emmaline. 

"You win," I admitted, placing my hands on my hips and looking at her knowingly, even as she fluttered her lashes innocuously. If she started to gloat about being a better marksman, I was going to contest that, but she did play with the cards she had and won. I suppose it's worrisome she knew getting me flustered was in those cards. I crossed my arms and looked at her, eyebrow raised and a hint of a grin. "What would you ask of your Inquisitor?"

The fact I had come in here to train her and it turned into a win in a contest by her showed she was still capable, if nothing else.