You are the night-time fear
He supposes that's true, and wonders if it has anything to do with Nate's little slip earlier. It bears some thought, at least, though Aamu merely responds with a bit of a twisted grin. This is not the time nor the place, and he thinks it won't be for quite some time either. He'd like to get to know Nate better first.It is an unusual movement for him, an unusual impact, but not much seems to have happened—there's no pain, no broken bones, just the vague sensation of having slammed his knuckles against something a bit too hard. It's fine his systems assure him, and he lets Nate's soaring spirits lift him, too. His laugh is a rather quiet thing, but his eyes glitter in the dark. Part of him wants to wave it off, say that he wouldn't be able to hit Nate if he was moving, but—why bother? It's an exercise, and Aamu's already on a crusade to make people accept praise and kindness. It'd be horribly hypocritical of him to brush it off.
"Feet, right," he murmurs, watching Nate's footwork as he shows what he means. Makes sense, honestly: if you don't have any feet on the ground, you have no stability, no power, you can't make a quick escape, and paying attention, well—
He sees it in the corner of his eye and instincts kick in. Aamu steps away and forward, light on his feet, dropping his newly learned fighter's pose for whatever comes naturally to him. He lacks a long weapon but reaches out all the same, trying to snake his arm around Nate's, not sure what he can achieve but feeling like Nate deserves something for his sneak attack.
He suspects it'll just end with him on his back in the snow again, though.
You are the morning when it's clear
AAMU
