[ It's a slow, painfully sloooooow reaction; one hand daintily wipes the spittle from his newly acquired face.

He laughs. He has to. ]

Tell me.

[ The laughter cuts abruptly as his cybernetic hand curls around her throat and pins her to the outside wall. Not hard enough to rattle, not hard enough to get a gaggle of overdefensive idiots on his ass, but hard enough to raise her up and cut off her air supply. ]

Did you really think that would be a good idea? I-I know, bandit brains are itty bitty, but come the frick on. I expected a little better out of you.