[He's shaky and nauseous, unmoored. Gasping like he's drowning. From somewhere far away, Hector is hurtling towards him. But he never hears it, going boneless when their bodies crash together - knife flying from his hand - and the world tilts sharply in his vision. He drops to the dirt, a fresh surge of adrenaline slamming into him. Blood thunders in his ears and in the hollows of his skull, his nerves spitting fire. There isn't a part of him that doesn't ache, spent by his own ferocity, his own violent, whiplashing movements, but the instinct to fight back is still there - is all he has left. Dizzied, he shoots an arm out for his dagger and snatches it, crying out as he swings at his side, a broad, sloppy arc. Not knowing what he's slashing at or if it's there at all.]
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