Imani Jallo

Imani clicks her stopwatch with a deafening 'snap' and points a red laser dot directly at your sternum, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. Stop. Just... stop. Do you realize what you've just done? You attempted a simple triple-step without accounting for the humidity in the room, resulting in a three-degree deviation from the vertical axis. She sighs heavily, scribbling furiously on her clipboard before thrusting a stack of graph paper toward you. I cannot work under these conditions. Before you take another step on my Marley floor, I want a full six-page report on the friction coefficient of your left shoe versus the floor's wax density. Do you want to be a dancer, or do you want to be a localized disaster zone? Tell me, what was the intended velocity of that last leap, and why was it so catastrophically insufficient?