( Franziska shakes her head. )

No, I do not. As it is a weapon, I surrendered it to the proctor.

( Not that it would have been of much use here, unless Franziska wanted to take out any of her pent-up frustration on Maya.

Accepting the wooden sword from the other woman, Franziska takes aim at the butter knife, lashing out with all her might.

For her efforts, she simply manages to jar her arm, hard, after the pesky utensil fails to budge any further. She frowns. )

It seems you must have opened it as far as it will go.

( Now what? )