It had been that time, if any, that if Haku would attack. Jefferson had prepared himself for the possibility with his prior, finishing words; it seemed some thought occurred behind those baby blue eyes, some gears turned for a few precious seconds and then he lunged as if all thought had been abandoned altogether. The cyclops' green eye widened just briefly, alarm settling in time for the scarred beast to stagger back and out of his brother's dive. If it was a fight Haku was looking for -- and there was no doubt in Jefferson's mind -- then it was a fight he would get.
As he dived past, the cyclops ducked out of his way but, as immature as it may have seemed, left a foot in place. Moving too far would send Haku spiraling over it, and Jefferson would gain an advantage. For now, however, the green-eyed beast felt a snarl rise from the depths of his throat, his marled arm left its sling, and the knives of his good arm swung at whatever they could reach in his brother's brush past.
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