He did hear something, but by the time he'd turned to see what it was there were hands around his throat, and his feet were off the ground. Much as he hated shifting, hated losing control that way, he wished that he could now, could save himself that way. He twists in the man's grip, hands coming up instinctively to wrap around the man's forearms, trying to push them away even as he lashes out with a foot to kick his attacker, just wanting to get away enough to attempt flight back to Fantasyland.