Elektra is on her knees with her hand resting on her abdomen, breathing hard in front of him. It never stops being surreal when she comes back to herself. It feels like her brain is playing catch up with the rest of her body as she rewinds every blow in her mind as if to remind herself it ever happened. It feels like a dream. The only way to make it real is to keep breathing through it.

Francis doesn't look any worse than usual so at least she isn't upset. Everything hurts instead whether it be from exertion or getting one of those sludge hammers to the body that he calls fists. It's humbling in a way she probably needs. She came into this with too much pride, hurt feelings, and not enough brains. She should have taken it seriously instead of getting emotional.

Elektra gets up as she finishes berating herself for an old man who isn't here and leaves. Francis will be fine. She'd really rather not be in public while in clear pain. Vulnerability never suited her.