And that is, oddly enough, not an opponent Ashley is not used to fighting. Even those that seemed human enough, her father included, tended to be larger, darker, more bulk and magic and supernatural twists than they were quick, well trained people closer to her own size.

It's an adjustment she's never had to make, and being called out on that sits heavy and sour in her gut. Not that he's wrong, but that she hates that she's fallen into that trap. More upset with herself than on being called out on it.

Drawing back for a moment as a means of regaining her balance, at least having enough skills to think about recovery, about what it takes to get herself back on her feet rather than ending up a downed target. Drawing a deep breath and trying to make herself focus on Danny and not on the fights she's spent her life fighting. Exhaling slowly, thinking about center of gravity, about balance points.

When she came in again with a series of punches and then a sudden, less telegraphed kick to try and plant the sole of her boot just below his sternum. Aiming lower on his torso, working to try and hit vulnerable points, ones that might have longer lasting effects.