Johte started to push on Procion's cue, not in a concussive burst but in a steady application of pressure, legs planted wide, body straining.  Only the barest sliver of skin touched between their bare palms, but the Force flowed around them, mingled between them, and it was like being trapped inside ball lightning, like static rippling across the skin, subtle but undeniable.  Johte shook his hair from his face, all but tossing his head in a gesture of impatience, his lips parted, his breaths coming faster.  A crack split the wall, dust raining down in a hissing stream.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>