His feet are swept away from the floor once again and he goes flying backwards until he connects painfully with the wall behind him.

Again, his bravado goes out of him, anger battling with fear and the rebellious streak clashing with his lifelong self-preservation. Ezekiel finds himself torn between the need to yell at Peter some more (a lot more) and the urge not to be stupid because right now? This is a fight he cannot win.

And it's a very painful fight.

"Okay!" He hold out his hand, the other clutching his shoulder. "P-point taken, I'm sorry!"