[It's a near thing, and she knows it. There's a moment, no more than a breath where they're pressed together in the stall. Then it shifts.
There's enough time to see it coming for her to move out of the way by a step or two. Not enough for her to use her whip again in the ways she's familiar with.
Instead, her foot comes up to a sweeping kick at his torso, as if to knock him off balance with her heel. This may or not be the intended rhythm, but something seems to click-what, exactly, she can't articulate.]
no subject
There's enough time to see it coming for her to move out of the way by a step or two. Not enough for her to use her whip again in the ways she's familiar with.
Instead, her foot comes up to a sweeping kick at his torso, as if to knock him off balance with her heel. This may or not be the intended rhythm, but something seems to click-what, exactly, she can't articulate.]