Rhys barely catches the stick. He has to take a few steps backwards to adjust for suddenly having some large object in his hands but he doesn't drop the thing and he doesn't fall over so he's going to fall that a win.

He glances down at the stick that he's currently holding and then up at the man who'd thrown it at him, brow furrowed.

"I tended to stay out of gladiatorial games where I come from," he explains, making a face. "It just seemed so bloody and painful. That was better suited to the idiots and robots. I was a better spectator. I had a great technique for clapping."