He stares blankly at the incongrous blue sabre, then back to the furious eyes behind the black mask. There's still no sign that he will fight; the tearstains cleared when he lost his form as he hit the ground.

"I thought you were going to make me pay," he says, flat and lifeless. "If you meant you were going to give me therapy, then perhaps I'll fight you after all."

He does not move an inch.