[ Amos draws back again, and he's mid-swing when it hits. The punch doesn't land. It loses momentum entirely, muscles seizing up as something foreign hits his system. His gaze drops to his arm, and the needle he's expecting to see isn't there. It's just Kovacs' hand.
And maybe it doesn't even feel like drugs. Maybe that's just the best comparison he has, because he knows what that's like, getting hit with a high dose that knocks you out flat and the way tranqs put lead in your nerves.
He grabs Kovacs' wrist, trying to break the contact. His grip isn't weak, yet — but it's a hell of a lot weaker, clumsy and easy to break. ]
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And maybe it doesn't even feel like drugs. Maybe that's just the best comparison he has, because he knows what that's like, getting hit with a high dose that knocks you out flat and the way tranqs put lead in your nerves.
He grabs Kovacs' wrist, trying to break the contact. His grip isn't weak, yet — but it's a hell of a lot weaker, clumsy and easy to break. ]