Ardeth is in the Gym, unusually he's left his sword behind but he's brought all ten of his knives anyway. It's been a while since he's practiced with these so he starts by simply feeling the wieght f them and tossing them from one hand to the other, before long he's started to juggle with them moving with the fluidity of long practice. Ardeth
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"Sorry mate. Interrupt your suicide attempt, did I?" he asks eventually, and then, "I can recommend a few easier ways to do it..."
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He folds his arms, glad he can no longer blush. "First try. That didn't count."
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With so little feeling in his hands, he wildly misjudges the distance and sends the knife spinning way past the target.
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The third knife takes another nose-dive - and hits the very bottom of the target. It ends up on the floor, but it did hit. Owen stares at it in surprise. "Did you see that?" he asks, excited as a little kid. "I hit it!"
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"Is that what you meant?" he asks, jogging over to collect the knives, calming himself down.
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"Show me again?"
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He picks up a knife and copies Ardeth's position. "If I was still alive it would help," he grumbles, almost to himself. "This - it's like wearing a really thick pair of gardening gloves, or something. I know something's in my hand, but not - like, what it feels like or how much force I'm gonna need to throw it. So I chuck it anyway and it goes all skew-wiff." He adjusts the blade between his fingers. If it cuts into him, Will's never going to believe it was an accident.
"This is so much bloody harder than it looks in the films..."
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Damn. It falls short again.
"That would've hit it. It would. It would if it'd just been a bit closer..."
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