[He could. He feels like he has; there's a vague memory of a fight, something brutal and important, something full of desperation with a very unhappy ending. He wishes he could remember more, but it's covered in the same haze that floats through many of his other memories; everything from before the last three years is crystal clear, or as clear as it ever was, but the last three years...

No sense worrying, though, and even though she's speaking to her audience and not necessarily to her fictional assailant with his arms around her, he still listens. At the jerk back of her head, he flinches just a bit, pulling his head out of harm's way as his arms tighten subconsciously on her waist and then loosen again as she turns to face him.]

Me? Uh. No, I'm pretty sure you have it covered. Don't kill your attacker, just...break his nose and leave him. Right? Yeah.