The look she gives his bruised arm is disbelieving, but when she sees the red mark, she flexes and clenches her fist. Huh.

"Sorry," she says quickly, tone offhand and deflated. She's distracted by her own thoughts. "I didn't think I hit that hard." She's not bothering to answer how much time she spends working out. Because, she doesn't. At least, not that she can remember.

After one last awkward look, she gripped the controller again and averted her gaze, paying attention to the TV again. It was her best hope for dispelling the weirdness that was her.