Practice makes perfect (open to Xavier's)

[catlikereflexes]

Frankie was in the gym, practicing on the balance beam. After a long day of doing homework, she found that turning on some music and doing some gymnastics was a nice way to cap off the day. That, and it meant that she could put off that pesky little history essay for another hour or two.

Frankie flipped off the beam, landing perfectly on her feet. She struck a pose, taking a bow for an imaginary audience.

Comments

[fourshelled]

He patted the hilt of the katana at his waist. "I need but a bladespan." He paused and then shrugged. "And room for the projectile pieces."

The turtle started toward the equipment room. "I wilt try to not be a bother!"

[catlikereflexes]

Frankie smiled. "You won't be a bother. Long as you don't use me for target practice!"

[fourshelled]

"Nay, young maiden. I would not deign such an act," D'Artagnan assured before disappearing momentarily into the equipment room. There was the sound of lots of things being shoved and some metal clanking before his shell appeared in the doorway. D'Artagnan dragged out a tennis ball launching machine.

[catlikereflexes]

"Just making sure," Frankie said. She did a couple of flips before stopping to watch D'Artagnan for a bit.

[fourshelled]

The man-sized turtle set up the apparatus so it would fling tennis balls safely out of Frankie's way. Then he disappeared into the equipment room only to reappear shortly with two buckets full of tennis balls. He dumped one bucket in and set the other by the machine.

D'Artagnan peered over to where Frankie was standing. He figured she would not be hit by halves there and nodded to himself. He turned to the machine. "Now, how doth I turn this thing on?"

[catlikereflexes]

Frankie walked, or rather, back-flipped over to where D'Artagnan had the machine set up. "Like this," she said, pointing to the power button. "What setting did you want it on?"

[fourshelled]

D'Artagnan heard the rhythmic thump thump thump of back-flipping coming toward him but didn't turn around. He was too busy squinting, muttering, and scratching his beak-y upper lip in consternation.

He leaned to the side to see the button the young maiden pointed to. He sighed. He appreciated levers so more than power buttons. "'Twould appreciate the middle one. I need to warm up before the barrage setting."