[The wise thing would be to dodge. A part of Beckett tries, or shouts at him - at the beast - to try, at least. But the beast would not be cornered back again. It moves him to try to leap instead, to sidestep the kick and close the distance again - get up and close, teeth and claws where he cannot be escaped - but it demands things the mortal body can't give it.
He manages to avoid taking the full force of the kick centre on. It cracks against his left side instead, with the inimitable sound of bones snapping clean through. He's knocked back and down, he reels, he crumples. Suddenly he can't breath. Can't even cough. Can't haul himself up, though he tries, coming to hands and knees and dropping again. He's suffocating, choking on the pain. Can't - can't -
The beast retreats. He's himself again, half curled up and wheezing on the cold floor, mind clearing to the consequences of his own rage.]
no subject
He manages to avoid taking the full force of the kick centre on. It cracks against his left side instead, with the inimitable sound of bones snapping clean through. He's knocked back and down, he reels, he crumples. Suddenly he can't breath. Can't even cough. Can't haul himself up, though he tries, coming to hands and knees and dropping again. He's suffocating, choking on the pain. Can't - can't -
The beast retreats. He's himself again, half curled up and wheezing on the cold floor, mind clearing to the consequences of his own rage.]