He didn't even try to move (though realistically, he probably couldn't have anyway) and the punch hit him straight in the jaw, sending him staggering backward. His foot hit the glass but it didn't crack.

For the second time in that arena, Sherlock spit out a tooth, and glared up at Garrus, with eyes like daggers.

"No?" He asked, spitting again, blood on the ground. "Yes, you're doing a remarkably good job of proving your tame inner soul."