[ When Malia's hit misses, she sways for a moment, thrown off balance by the sheer force behind her throw. It takes a moment of standing still, staring blankly, before what happened really registers. She hadn't even meant to hit him (or try to, anyway). It just happened. Like a reflex, left over from her coyote days, when it was kill or be killed. She's lost and alone here, packless, an omega; the lone wolf is the weakest. Malia can't see or smell or fight like she used to, either, so her nerves are on overdrive to compensate. Punching was just part of that.
Her mouth drops open a little as she meets his gaze with a glassy-eyed expression. ]
I thought you were an evil ghost.
[ In which case, punching wouldn't have worked — but give her some credit, she wasn't in the best state of mind. Still isn't. After a pause, her mouth makes a little 'o' as she draws in her breath like she's just remembered something. ]
...Sorry.
[ That's what she remembered. People usually apologize when they try to hit people. It doesn't sound entirely sincere, more rehearsed than anything else, but it's progress. ]
no subject
Her mouth drops open a little as she meets his gaze with a glassy-eyed expression. ]
I thought you were an evil ghost.
[ In which case, punching wouldn't have worked — but give her some credit, she wasn't in the best state of mind. Still isn't. After a pause, her mouth makes a little 'o' as she draws in her breath like she's just remembered something. ]
...Sorry.
[ That's what she remembered. People usually apologize when they try to hit people. It doesn't sound entirely sincere, more rehearsed than anything else, but it's progress. ]