Rude takes his time, going slowly through the major muscle groups, and then the finer ones afterward. His eyes watch what Tseng is doing while he moves, brows raising when he slips the fitted focus mitts onto his fingers. It slowly becomes clear what he's readying himself for.

He gives a final roll of his neck and shoulders before he nods. Rude misses his own pair of leather gloves. That barrier between himself and the people he hit was usually a safety blanket, but Tseng was special. He doesn't mind direct contact with his superior, and they were only just sparring. It wouldn't be necessary, he hopes.

Both fists raise up in front of him to show he's ready for whatever Tseng can throw at him. "Whenever you're ready."