Watching Omac and P.K. attempt and succeed, He let out a low whistle. Then, of course, he was only staring dumbly as Kris fell down. He blinked once, twice. Something crashed at the bottom and he gasped. "Oh gawd. Are you okay?!" He yelled, peering down from the ledge. He can't really see anything. Swallowing, he glanced at the two who had crossed on over. Then at the swinging... things. AyJay hesitated.
"Uhh... Balls." He just said before biting his lip and closing his eyes. He looked in pain for a moment, curling in on himself. He could hear the laughter at the back of his head before shaking his head. "Don't worry!! I'll get across!! I'm used to having balls thrown at my face! I'll save you!!" He yelled, cheeks flushed. He meant basketballs and volleyballs and soccerballs. A reason why he both loved and hated ball sports. Don't give me that look, you pervs.
Stretching, he closed his eyes, before taking in a deep breath. This is a rhythm game. Red eyes followed the swish swish of the leather balls as he counted the beat in his head. 'One, Two, Three, Four, Five, One, Six, Two-' He counted, not moving before making a mad dash. The balls swung in front and behind him, narrowly missing him, but never touching. As he reached the end, he tripped, letting out a loud yelp before managing to right himself and dodge the ball swinging towards his face. He nearly missed slamming into both Omac and P.K., and instead, rolled over until he was on his back.
"Holy crap." He muttered, feeling the adrenaline in his veins. "I hate balls." He muttered softly, groaning to himself before opening his eyes. "I made it, didn't I?"
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