[He staggers backward tensely, limbs all stiffened before the shock wears off and he's collapsing backwards in a nice little empty space other commuters have wisely created. When the breath returns to him he seems more — aware. His gaze latches on hers, one arm held up as if ready to grapple if she's planning to go for another attack. He's quite a sight, dinged up with scars, some that cross into his hairline, some on his arms, all pale against his tanned skin; one's a hand-shapped burn mark.
He glances around with tersely blinking eyes like maybe he's a little alarmed and confused at how he ended up on the floor electrocuted and at the potential mercy of this person. Fuck. He's not doing good today; bad day, off day, and there's no place here he can slink off to redirect himself. Usually he's fine — but new place. New places never help, always throw him off his new rhythm.
no subject
He glances around with tersely blinking eyes like maybe he's a little alarmed and confused at how he ended up on the floor electrocuted and at the potential mercy of this person. Fuck. He's not doing good today; bad day, off day, and there's no place here he can slink off to redirect himself. Usually he's fine — but new place. New places never help, always throw him off his new rhythm.
... Could be worse?]