You are the night-time fear
"Quite," he assured him, wryly."Yes," he breathes with the slightest smirk, too experienced to let his attention be drawn into quips and teases; there's more he'd like to say, but he's too busy watching Nate's actions. Aamu knows full well that he's about to get hit by something, just not where.
Or by what, really. Hand-to-hand? Not really, he thinks as he's busy falling into the snow. Too many body parts involved for that name.
His mind replays. The punch to the shoulder. (All's fine, his monitoring systems assure him.) The leg-sweep. Neat, nimble, effective. Aamu likes it. Thinks he probably could've dodged, or at least mitigated, a bit of it, but he was too curious to see what would happen. Oops. Well, at least he has more sense in a real battle, and now he knows more than he did five seconds ago. With a small smirk he lets Nate haul him back up, and he nods.
His blue gaze flicks from place to place on Nate's body, studying his joints and foot placement more than anything. Aamu copies him with relative ease, drawing upon a long background of learning other forms of fighting: at a glance he's well balanced, if unsure of these exact movements.
Punch him? Okay. Where? No idea. Aamu does as he is told, and it's, well... He knows how to utilize his body: how to put power into his motions, even though he's not going for a full blow strength-wise. But the rest, like punching technique and aiming? Eeh... Not so much.
At least he knows this, and hungers for the corrections and pointers.
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
