She is, in fact, alarmed that he's holding a sword. At least, that's a logical conclusion at which he might arrive when her eyes widen and she freezes where she stands at one of the filing cabinets, a sheaf of papers still in hand. She takes in the whole of him with one visual sweep head to toes and back, her mouth tightening in, yes, fear, colored with a heaping dose of resignation.

"Been thinking about my life choices," she replies, unfreezing and taking a few too-casual steps to her desk to toss the papers down upon its surface. "About where I see myself in five years. Not so sure I want to work my way up this particular corporate ladder anymore."