He blocks and deflects as best he can, his arms aching from absorbing the strikes, as well as his flank where she slips past his defenses. He's definitely going to need to spend some quality time with a dermal regenerator when this is all said and done.

Jim can't even guess how she possibly knows that. The amount of shit he's carrying could fill a book. Probably will, some day. But there's one obvious tidbit he can offer. It's not like it's a secret. "He killed my dad."