The first punch caught him off-guard. Still bewildered from the first, there was little he could do about the second. "Diable!" he hissed, when her bony knuckle caught him at the still-soft inside of his elbow. By the third, he was half-resigned to the beating, although he had no idea why the little therapist was flying at him with her fists, when she changed tactics and flew right at his chest. Axe was suddenly thankful he was a Beater and thus used to objects travelling at high speeds slamming into his body, as he rocked back only for a moment upon impact.
It took him a moment to realize she was speaking during all of this, albeit in that same strained, high frequency that had signaled him to wait earlier (which he was regretting heartily now), but he couldn't pay attention to that and her slap-happy fists at the same time.
"I hit back," he warned, but it was mostly drowned out by her stream of non-literal curses.
Prioritizing, he danced away from the last now half-hearted swing and caught her hands firmly in his before even thinking to address exactly why she was making him her punching bag.
"Who think who what?" Axe asked distractedly, focusing on the squirming hands. "Therese, what are you doing?"
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