For those few moments, Diana stands stock still, not sure what to do with herself after lashing out at the bird. She has always been prone towards acting on her emotions--it was something Antiope urged her to gain control of throughout her training. But even after thousands of years, she still wears her heart on her sleeve. It isn't embarrassing, exactly, but compared to Altaïr, who always seems so collected, it is... unsettling. It's a feeling Diana isn't used to dealing with, and, frankly, doesn't like.

So she just watches as he pulls her blade from the tree, fighting to get a hold of herself by the time he speaks. And she's relieved that he doesn't ask about the words the bird croaked or her sudden outburst; it's so like him, she thinks, to choose something else to talk about, to compliment someone's throwing form instead of pointing out their lack of control. Not for the first time, she's grateful for what she thinks of as tact.

Finally, she steps forward, pausing in front of him before moving to take the dagger. "I have had a lot of practice." There's a certain dryness to her tone that betrays that her emotions are still running high, that she's trying too hard to keep herself in check. "Though not usually on birds."