A whisper of sound overhead. A nightbird in flight, or the flat of a hand coming down, and Jason moves on instinct, catches most of the blow on his shoulder which hurts, but doesn't incapacitate.

Dancing back a safe distance, Jason's expression folds with anger and a hurt whose intensity makes no sense until one remembers his youth, and the endless string of losses he's faced of late. "Stop it!" he shouts at her. "I'm trying to help you!"