"Jesus!" Okay — now he remembers. He scrambles back, but he knows it's not his reflexes that have saved him. It's just the modicum of control Midnighter wrested back at the last moment. That punch would most likely have sent his nose crunching back into his brain.

He's panting, eyes wide. Alarmed and shaking and suddenly sick with guilt. Idiot. Midnighter told him not to do that.

"M," he manages. "Midnighter. You — hey. Christ — look at me. Look at me, calm down. Please."