Good. He wants the challenge, craves it, something to hone in on and block out the rest, the noise that tends to clutter the back of his mind. In combat, he finds some measure of peace. Then again, he assumes that must be the case for every soldier, or at least any successful one.

Is Locksmith that breed of soldier? Or something else entirely? Now he's curious.

Step in again. Two, three solid swings, though with nowhere near the force of the last, and these aimed not for the chest or the head or any easy target, but joints. If he relies on speed, better to hit him where it might conceivably slow him down.