On the other hand, he was on a horse, it was that tone, so the instinct was kicking in – the instinct that wasn't, actually, out of practice, unlike his posting.
The instinct that said: listen to the instructor, you idiot, don't die.
He sat. Fast.
So, of course, Katie had to suffer through mixed signals, while Loki was hurriedly reviewing the fact that, yes, he was off-rhythm, and floating left, and ... they were walking, again. Shuffling.
Fuck.
"Let's try that again, shall we?" he asked Katie, softly, before urging her up into a trot, again, this time... sitting.
Slowly – slo-o-o-ow-ly – he crept up off the saddle, not really posting, but not, entirely, seated.
Balancing.
Trying, in fact, not to drift left, but the way his figure-eights of the ring kept drifting far more left than they were meant to made it pretty obvious that, well, he still was.
"Dammit," he expostulated, loudly enough for Sif to hear his exasperated frustration.