Abigail tries to step away he advances toward her, but she finds herself backed against the wall. Her pulse is going at a hundred miles an hour and if it's possible for her to turn even more pale than usual, she does. Logically she knows this isn't real, but even so she refuses to allow herself to become a victim again, especially a victim of someone who she'll be trapped with every day for the best part of her life. If she shows that she's that weak now, she's sure that he'll continue to walk over her back in Obsidian, invent ways to make her life hell. Her survival instinct kicked in, just as it had with her father. She'd grown used to having to deflect from herself as a potential victim and turn herself into something else, freeing a part of herself that was difficult for her to acknowledge but was most definitely there.

And so she takes a deep breath, twisting the sheer nerves written all over her face to a smile that's soft but sharp.

"That all depends on what you have in mind."

Victim she refused to be, but accomplice she'd grown used to.