Someone else might be worried, but part of her, deep down, is glad that Akande isn't. She craves small freedoms like this, freedoms to express herself as she sees fit. To express her desires as she wants. And she wants Akande.

The swipe catches her in her side, tossing her across the room again. Breathless, she pulls at her knife again to hopefully slice him. Just keep things interesting for now.
"I see you..." She whispers, sing-song, watching him through the infared visor he hasn't taken from her yet.

There, another thrown knife, just enough to graze his cheek or ear but not enough to cause damage. Come on. It's time to get their blood pumping.