[Da Qing's grabbing at the guy's shoulders, slowing him down, and Zhao's discovering that, while not fast and definitely not any kind of trained, their weirdo gardener is strong. He grabs for the hands on his throat as black sparks bloom across his vision, and throws his thumbs right against the nerves in the wrists, forcing the fingers to spasm and let him drag them away.]
Fuck--
[First things first: get out of arm's reach. He takes a big step back, rubbing at red marks that are going to be bruised tomorrow.]
All right, you're sitting down.
[He steps back in, prepared this time, with a foot sweep that sends him sagging back against Da Qing.]
And then we've got some questions to ask you, asshole.
no subject
Fuck--
[First things first: get out of arm's reach. He takes a big step back, rubbing at red marks that are going to be bruised tomorrow.]
All right, you're sitting down.
[He steps back in, prepared this time, with a foot sweep that sends him sagging back against Da Qing.]
And then we've got some questions to ask you, asshole.