"Whatever happens, don't interfere unless you're attacked. They're not safe to be near when active." Roxie moves with a firm, quiet poise. Quiet enough to miss, maybe, but not intentionally so. As she reaches the man, she raises the hammer up. Her face is cold and cruel, her glasses shining with the light of the lamps like burning mirrors. One might wonder, as she starts to swing, if she's judged this right. The man doesn't look inhuman. Filthy, maybe, but old and weak and harmless.

The hammer sinks into his chest with the sound of shredding bone and tearing muscle, and lodges. The force is enough to back-spatter Roxie with blood.

A breath passes, as she tries to wrench the hammer free.

And then the man's eyes open, bone-white from edge to edge, and he casually backhands Roxie harshly enough to send her skidding into the street.