He's tense like a rope wound so tight it's near ready to snap. He doesn't let people this close. Not living people. He focuses himself like he's a funambulist walking that fine line, breathing deep. He won't let it be caught, even as the man's arm goes around his neck. He is balanced.

And then suddenly he's not.

He whirls around, fast, snarling loud, ready to block, ready to defend himself from the inevitable cull attempt, ready to cull this motherfucker for betraying him, for daring-

His face slowly, so slowly slips out of it's frozen snarl, as Sigma's coughs fill the air. Both his eye and the empty socket are wide as he gapes. Had he done something? Had the he gotten his powers back and hit the man with voodoo? No, that couldn't be it, he would've felt that, even in just a single instant. He doesn't move a muscle, not as long as Sigma doesn't.

"Motherfucker, what...?" He starts, but he doesn't follow through with the question. Sigma said he didn't know. But it was so like how other trolls had looked before being hit with voodoo, he wonders...

When Sigma finally does rise, it's all that much harder to calm himself to what he was before, which really, hadn't been all that calm in the first place. He keeps one knee raised, the other down, and watches, disquieted, over his shoulder.