Kevin's walking along a horizontal bar that you're supposed to use for pullups and preparing to hop to its shorter neighbor when somebody startles him. He stumbles, overcorrects, and goes over — "Fuck!" — but manages to catch the bar with an ankle as he goes and swing through the opening underneath, bending his knees to pull himself up and get a grip with his hands as well as his ankles around the bar before he loses it entirely.

It's fine, he's got it, he's hanging from the bar like a goon but nothing hurts. He's good.

He turns to look for whoever shouted at him, having missed the guy coming in. He was totally focused on what he was doing, finding that almost meditative space that the motion can be for him, and it's a bit disorienting to come out from that by surprise.

"I was workin' on it," he calls back, a bit lamely, trying to gauge sincerity vs sarcasm in retrospect for something that he wasn't paying his best attention to.

You know, while also hanging upside-down.