Damon sat down on the stool. He wasn't breathing heavy. His face was calm, focused. Victor stepped in front of him, crouching to meet his eye level.
"You're doing fine," Victor said, wiping the sweat from Damon's chest. "Keep doing what you're doing."
Damon nodded once.
Victor pointed toward Alex's corner with his chin. "Look at his legs. He's standing too square after every exchange. You saw that?"
"I did."
"Good. That's your angle. When you step out, cut in. Don't go wide. And his right elbow flares when he throws the left hook, there's a gap there."
Damon didn't say anything. He didn't need to.
Victor continued. "He's not reacting to your feints either. That means you're not letting him read you. That's good. But don't get greedy. He's still dangerous. Play with the tempo, not with your chin."
He gave Damon a light slap on the thigh. "You got this. Stay in control."
