All right, of all the shit she's had to deal with today, having her life threatened by the dude who made a head just for shits and giggles is a step beyond the pale. Patch, hand on her gun, is closer to shooting this man than she's been with anyone else so far.

Until he makes the actual walls curl down like banana peels. Which is officially just Too Fucking Much, and she bolts - but she hasn't dropped the box with the head in it. She's making pretty good time, too, for how exhausted she is, until she hears the noises stop, which is a relief, and then hears him fall and grunt in pain, which-- damn it.

Her hand is back on the gun at her hip when she turns back to face him, but the fact that he's stopped being unbearably creepy helps. A little. Very very little. She really wishes she could just walk away. Life would be a whole lot easier right now if she could just be the kind of person who would just walk away.