The injured lock would have absolutely adored to continue just so she could pummel Spirit into insignificant smithereens. However, not only was she too weak to continue, but this was a fight of honor. At least, it was<span style="font-style: italic">supposed</span>to be; the brutal scorching bit was debatable. She and her partner simply bowed in return; it was all they could really do.<br/><br/>When Spirit approach Blurm, immediately, they clasped her shoulders with their stone Hamsa hands and gazed into her eyes, worry clearly reflecting off their scarlet, oval peepers.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-family: poor richard;">What has gotten into you?!</span>" they exclaimed with that very concern with a rather confusing tone of voice. The compliment was insignificant compared to the well-being of those involved in the battle. "<span style="font-family: poor richard;">I do not know how many times I have had to tell you to control yourself! My god, Spirit..</span>." Blurm released Spirit's shoulders with a soft sigh. "<span style="font-family: poor richard;">You should be lucky that you did not end up dying, honestly</span>."