For all of his height, for all that he tries to stay fit, Alistair Krei is no fighter. He doesn't have the muscle that Callaghan does, doesn't have the instincts or the know-how to block or redirect an attack. The sudden assault slams him back against the wall like a ragdoll, his ill-advised sarcasm quickly melting back into fear.

Forgiving and forgetting are definitely off the table, it would seem.

He nods as Callaghan speaks, maybe nodding a little too quickly. "Fine, Callaghan," he chokes out. A fresh trickle of blood seeps from his lip without the handkerchief there to staunch the still-new wound. "Yes, I understand."