[ she's got spirit, that's for sure, and it rouses his own usually dormant enthusiasm into life. while she steadies herself at the mouth of the lane, he picks out his ball of choice: black, with red swirls. an homage to arahato, not that anyone here would recognize the name. he hefts it once and then twice before nodding it in satisfaction, and looks up just in time to watch the young woman toss her ball down the lane and right into the gutter.
he can't help it; he smiles wide. ]
Everyone needs a good warm-up before they can bowl their best.
[ words of encouragement even if she doesn't need them, said kindly as he takes his own place before the line. he gives his ball a few experimental swings before launching it forward for real, watching as it spins down the lane in a shockingly straight line and knocks over a good seven pins. ]
A lucky throw.
[ is that modesty, or is he just trying to throw her off the scent? ]
no subject
he can't help it; he smiles wide. ]
Everyone needs a good warm-up before they can bowl their best.
[ words of encouragement even if she doesn't need them, said kindly as he takes his own place before the line. he gives his ball a few experimental swings before launching it forward for real, watching as it spins down the lane in a shockingly straight line and knocks over a good seven pins. ]
A lucky throw.
[ is that modesty, or is he just trying to throw her off the scent? ]