Well it would be one fucking thing if he remembered her, if she weren't trapped in his shitty memory of his shitty past, and if he hadn't chosen to close his argument with that.

That would all be one thing. She'd have backed off, gone back to respecting his space, guarding it even.

But unfortunately.

"Fuck you," she snaps, and she slugs him across the face, gripping his shirt again to keep him from scrambling away. "Not ideal? This looks like a fucking death sentence to me. And you didn't even blink." She releases him roughly, aiming to send him sprawling.