Iman looks up sharply, staring at Rush, hair prickling all over her arms. What is he doing, what is he saying? He won't be so lenient? What's he going to do, does he honestly think he poses any sort of threat to this thing? Does he think saying something like that won't make him an automatic target? He's just casually poking a fucking beehive.

The cat is equally bewildered, coy and questioning, and her shoulders stiffen as she pushes her chair back and stands. "Rush," she says, somewhere between warning and shocked. "Shut up."