Her right shoulder made a cracking pop as she did so, and she groaned a bit and swung her arm in circles, testing her range of motion. She was fine, it seemed, in spite of everything she’d gone through over the last few days. Banged up but not broken. She reached down into her bag and pulled out her white padded jacket and the fine gray metal mesh lamé that went over top. Because she fought saber, the lamé covered her torso and arms. It was attached to a wire that registered hits from the electrified saber blade during bouts. As sore as she was from her recent encounters, Mason knew that any residual aches and pains would be left behind, forgotten, once she was connected to the electronic scorekeeper and facing off against her opponent, ready to compete. She half turned and reached for where she’d left her gauntlet and metal overglove on the bench beside her, but they weren’t there. She turned all the way around and saw Calum, leaning against the wall, holding the protective gear out to her.
