If she weren't a trained mercenary, she might have taken the crowbar to the brain, become nothing more than a pinkish-red splatter on the ground and a corpse with a hole in its skull. As it stands she hears him coming just in time, and throws herself to the side.

If she weren't dehydrated and lethargic, she might have spared herself entirely. Instead she only just avoids his body weight and throws her weight at his ankles, trying to bring them both to the ground.

"Nahs-" She almost gasps his name, but the truth is he looks more like Gollum than the gladiator she knew of. The other factor blocking her words is the crowbar hook catching the inside of her mouth and tearing. She feels her cheek split from her gum, from the base of her teeth. She feels hot blood spilling down her chin and neck. She's lands on her hands, grunting as a lance of pain shoots up her wrist.