It's like he's mimicking something he saw once, like he'd dreamed up his swordplay during an idle fantasy--and there are odd moments where he pauses, as if he should be bolstered by something, and usually, a bladed chain leaps to his defense in that moment.

(His body feels--odd. As if he's stuck between being fluid, being swift, knowing what he's doing with a bladed weapon, and yet, at the same time, he feels like he should be still, unbothered, movement unnecessary.

Movement is incredibly necessary in this moment, as he swipes and sweeps and cuts his way through brainless bric-a-brac, that chain handily making up for gaps in his footwork, but he makes a note to address this with... someone, somehow. He's good, but he's not good enough, and not being good enough is basically the same as being bad, and that can't stand, now can it?)

Ritsuka ducks and Gilgamesh slices, cleaving the broom in a messy twain as the cleaning implement misses her. He moves closer to her at a quick clip, continuing to hack and slash his way through the mindless, unwavering hoards of marching, mindless decor, trusting Ritsuka to see to herself for the most part--though some. Instinct? In him moves him to be between her and the danger more than once, and then (Enkidu) leaps to save them both, fighting fools that they are.

"What sort of source are you looking for? Something glowing and obvious, or a small, irritating button?"

He doesn't have much attention to pay, but he'll try?