For all anyone could probably tell at a passing glance, Acorn had set up in a far, quiet corner of the courtyard that morning to warm up for the day's duels. Squats. Stretches. Jumping jacks (albeit entitely without the jumping).

But a keener eye (or maybe anyone with a bone to pick) might notice that whenever he was sure no one else was noticing, he was fiddling a bit with something bright and colorful in his hands and seemingly murmuring to himself about something, activities he would swiftly mask with more supposed warm-ups if anyone got too near.