[ He knows what he's doing, of course. She wins - drives him back, him jerking and barking with every precise poke of her fingers - but he's satisfied in her victory, because a bit of her rage is cooled. When he retreats into his corner of the groundcar, panting and holding up his hands in unconditional surrender, his smile is genuinely pleased. ]
I yield! I yield. I surrender and confess my crimes. Clemency, I beg clemency.
no subject
I yield! I yield. I surrender and confess my crimes. Clemency, I beg clemency.