Crix was mid-step when Hannibal countered with a small flick of his blade towards his chest. Not a strong attack, a reactionary one, but when you were fighting with lightsabers you didn't need to swing like you were trying to brain someone with a 2x4. Seeing the blade circling, he pulled back, flicking his wrist up to bring the tip of his own blade up to catch his Master's as it lashed out at his chest, catching it against his own tip.
There was a joke in there he would have made during a regular practice session but this wasn't one of those, was it?
The motion of blocking his Master's quick, probing, strikes became second nature to the Padawan and he almost felt himself falling into the rhythm that they so often fell into during extended practice sessions. He recognized it as a trap he was almost walking into when he moved his blade to block high and felt it as Hans' body moved. Crix had allowed himself to get suckered into familiar motions, familiar patterns, and Hannibal had been waiting for it.
Instinctively, Crix reacted as he had many times in the past and tried for a low kick that his Master often used to... his foot collided with Hannibal's own, clumsily, and Crix staggered forward slightly, doing his best to keep the blades locked above them as he pushed his body forward to stabilize himself from the way he had extended forward with the attempted kick. Why had he thought that kicking out would work? He'd learned that move from Hans for Gods' sake!
And now his ankle hurt - fantastic.
Still, with the two of them now closer, Crix pressed harder against Hannibal's blade with his own while he lashed out with his free hand, going for a punch to his Master's gut - one that he used to laugh a tightly coiled, but hastily concentrated, Push out ahead of his hand, aimed to hit Hans' in the gut before he the expected punch could land.
Misdirection for a blow to the midsection, maybe?
@Mr. Teatime