It's not that Finch doesn't trust her ability not to hit him. It's that he doesn't trust her restraint not to hit him. He forces her and her twisting, spinning daggers out of his mind as he analyzes the course ahead, mapping out the best route for his spindly body to fly. He only has one practice round before the challenge becomes real, and Flora may not miss, but his body may lack the ability to adequately move out the way before her dagger reaches her target.
Shifting the weight under his feet, he springs forward with all the energy and grace of a cat pouncing. True to his word, he takes his time with the course, spinning his body around ropes and diving through obstacles with an ease of practiced movement. It's not too hard done slowly, but he sees the ways in which the sharp corners of the course would grow tricky -- and even deadly -- if one was moving quickly and avoiding lethal things hurled their way. His body moves and twists with careful precision, light and lithe, as his body begins to remember the ways in which it can be flexible and tricky. He lets loose a wild and happy grin as he sails from one rope to the next, earnestly enjoying the freedom of his body moving without the pressure of a clock or blades. Finishing the course with a sharp exhale of breath, he brushes sand off the knees of his dark pants and sets his shoulders back, again, like a gymnast finishing a routine.
"That was easy," He bluffs, absolutely knowing it was about to get harder, and much so. On his heel he turns and resets to the beginning of the course, fingers twitching from the warmth against the rope and his adrenaline beginning to race from the task ahead. When he reaches the beginning again, he takes a deep breath and centers his beating heart.
"Alright, I'm ready," He calls, and without a moment's hesitation, springs back into the course.
Shifting the weight under his feet, he springs forward with all the energy and grace of a cat pouncing. True to his word, he takes his time with the course, spinning his body around ropes and diving through obstacles with an ease of practiced movement. It's not too hard done slowly, but he sees the ways in which the sharp corners of the course would grow tricky -- and even deadly -- if one was moving quickly and avoiding lethal things hurled their way. His body moves and twists with careful precision, light and lithe, as his body begins to remember the ways in which it can be flexible and tricky. He lets loose a wild and happy grin as he sails from one rope to the next, earnestly enjoying the freedom of his body moving without the pressure of a clock or blades. Finishing the course with a sharp exhale of breath, he brushes sand off the knees of his dark pants and sets his shoulders back, again, like a gymnast finishing a routine.
"That was easy," He bluffs, absolutely knowing it was about to get harder, and much so. On his heel he turns and resets to the beginning of the course, fingers twitching from the warmth against the rope and his adrenaline beginning to race from the task ahead. When he reaches the beginning again, he takes a deep breath and centers his beating heart.
"Alright, I'm ready," He calls, and without a moment's hesitation, springs back into the course.
