She yanked her hand away--Don't grab at me, she wanted to snap, but the words didn't come--torn between putting his ass through a wall or taking his head off. Her arm was a sore spot. It always would be, even now, all this time later.

But the truth of the matter was, when he put it that way, she understood. Understood what it was like to lose something so essential, something that you needed and depended on. Magic wasn't quite a limb, but being suddenly powerless, disabled, helpless, she understood that. Her own arm had been ripped off tiwce, and she remembered exactly how fucked up she'd been over it.

For a few minutes, she was quiet, just glaring at him, considering how best to word her reply. Hell, she was trying to figure out what sort of retort she even wanted to give. Her jaw was tight, and even the water seemed cowed, silent for once.

"Not wanting to be helpless is one thing. But it's what you're doing with those damn things that's gonna be the problem, I know it."