When she says nothing, he's about ready to protest again on principle, just to get through to her that this was ridiculous. But in lieu of words, something else unique to her bursts in his synapses and drags across his mind like a streaming flare.

Move.

Banagher isn't a fighter. He barely even knows how to defend himself on a good day, so the arm that shoots up to block hers is awkwardly placed, but well-timed. Too well. Holding her elbow at bay with the flat of his arm, he looks nothing less than incensed, as if he was more concerned with the fact that she'd just tried to take a swipe at him out of the blue rather than the sudden measure he'd taken to prevent it.

"What the hell, Vanessa?!"

(The point.



















Banagher.)