Len's reaction was almost instantaneous. He literally shot away from Emma and landed hard on the floor. He'd smacked a lamp on her with his hand as he recoiled, breaking it as it hit the floor next to him. Crawling backward to increase the distance between them, his face was an expressionless mask save for an intense look of self-hatred. He noticed blood smears on the floor from where his right hand had been pressed against the ground.<br/><br/>"Damnit....." He snarled, seeming not care her was there, yanking his shirt off while turning his back to her. Where he stood, sunlight shone on his back, illuminating the multiple scars from what appeared to be a whip.<br/><br/>He tore some of the shirt into strips as he yanked the large piece of lightbulb out of his hand. Making the largest strip he made into a small square, he secured it with another strip he tied with practiced ease.<br/><br/>He put what was left of the shirt back on before cleaning up the mess he made. Gathering all the pieces of the lamp he could find(the lightbulb was intact if you excluded the chuck he pulled out of his hand), he unceremoniously dumped it all in the trash. The blood was something he couldn't do much about without summoning a cleaner. He looked around, looking for any pieces he missed.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">'Wow........ That was disappointing. Wish you had gone a lot farther than that. She was enjoying it, ya know.' </span><br/><br/>"Oh, now you show up," He growled silently to himself, unable to really look at Emma, "Do me a favor and fuck off again."<br/><br/>'Like I call seriously do that,' his other self snorted, 'You have to kill yourself to get rid of me.'<br/><br/>"That can easily be arranged" he growled, loud enough to be heard.