[Anya knows how this goes, how he moves too quickly to be stopped, without hesitation or remorse: snap the arm, stop the threat long enough to snap the neck, it's all over in less than three seconds when he blurs, only marginally longer when he doesn't. The fact of the matter is that he is predictable in his approach but it doesn't matter even when his opponent sees it coming: he's too fast, too strong to counter even with warning.
Now he hesitates, because she sounds like her and his reaction to even the sound of her voice is deeply ingrained in him, driven in under Manticore's conditioning, uprooting it and overwriting it until he would obey her over them without flinching; and he knows that. He knows that she loves him, and it gives him life and strength beyond what he'd ever known was even possible.
His teeth flash, obscuring the fact that tears are already welling up, frustration and helplessness and real sorrow because he would never willingly hurt her. But this isn't her.]
I will have her back. [He doesn't blur, but even with warning he's hard to stop when he twists smoothly, steps slightly to one side for better leverage, and yanks abruptly back against the line of her forearm.]
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Now he hesitates, because she sounds like her and his reaction to even the sound of her voice is deeply ingrained in him, driven in under Manticore's conditioning, uprooting it and overwriting it until he would obey her over them without flinching; and he knows that. He knows that she loves him, and it gives him life and strength beyond what he'd ever known was even possible.
His teeth flash, obscuring the fact that tears are already welling up, frustration and helplessness and real sorrow because he would never willingly hurt her. But this isn't her.]
I will have her back. [He doesn't blur, but even with warning he's hard to stop when he twists smoothly, steps slightly to one side for better leverage, and yanks abruptly back against the line of her forearm.]