Aoren was not the only who worked the hard labor jobs. Quinn himself was built up by taking what no one else will, tanned almost to the bone by countless hours under the sun - and for what? Just for his daily bread, quite literally. Weighted down and lacking the staff his partner had made great use of, Quinn would have to say this was a less than even pairing... Not that he did not believe in his skills, but the Quarterstaff was a beautifully effective extension of the body.
When Aoren near flew over the river with aid from that staff, Quinn knew he had the advantage here. Leaning forward so that he could pick up a burst of short distance speed, his legs coiled and at the first feel of moistened ground he leaps. With his arcing jump it was clear he would not make it, at least till he shifted his center of weight. Slipping the backpack down on his back rotating with a partial spiral he landed facing the river. It took another quick flick of his body to throw him the rest of the way back, or risk falling in. Hands rising to complete a backwards flip. When his right foot touches ground he pivots on his ankle and swings on his hip to throw his weight onto the left foot and launch back into a sprint.
It was not very flashy and a clumsy version of what the better trained could do. It does show a skill in the physical body, as Aoren could have already seen, as well as an experience with it that could only have come by seasons of preparation and mental-physical synergy.
It was when Aoren dropped to the earth that his legs finally slow. They burned, his abdomen burns, his lungs ached and his heart raced. This was definitely an enjoyable way to start the day. When he slows to a walk he first comes to the quarterstaff, and with a grip of his toes and a flick of his foot he tossed it up to grip the long staff. Moving the weapon to rest the butt on the ground in front of Aoren so he may aid himself up, Quinn spoke again. "That was a delight, I apologize it ended so poorly. Are you wounded?"