When the scream does nothing other than pull more hostile and unwanted attention in her direction, Lydia goes into a fight stance. She might never have physically lived the lessons, but she remembers them. The first person to get close enough gets a kick in the side while she's fumbling to pull out her cold gun.
The name Ronan rings out and it distracts her because she knows it — not Jackson — and Lydia turns in the direction of the sound. She points the gun and her finger fidgets at the trigger until it looks like Ronan and the guy yelling for him are clear of the shot. It's the first time she's fired the gun outside Cisco's corner of the back room. There's no kickback, but she still sucks in a gasp and yelps in surprise when the person coming at her with a steel pipe stops dead in his tracks. Literally frozen.
It's in her awe at the fact that she's literally frozen her attacker into a statue of ice — and the subsequent misguided swing of someone else's steel pipe that shatters him into a thousand glittering pieces on the floor — that she loses the gun. She's staring one second in awe and horror and the next second, she's being grabbed and tugged, her wrist being bent back painfully and the gun clatters to the floor.
Lydia spies Ronan making his way closer and she calls out, "get my gun! Don't let them get my gun!" before turning her eyes on the blond right in the line of fire for another swing from another protester. Lydia abandons the gun because Ronan-not-Jackson is moving in her direction and she's hoping like hell he's heard her, but instinct kicks in: they're trying to help her and now she needs to repay the favor.
Sprinting forward, Lydia kicks out at a protester's stomach and leaps up when the man doubles over, locking her thighs around his neck and swinging her body weight around to drop him to the ground. When she's level again and beside the blond rather than in front of him, she tries the scream again because it comes more naturally than it should. Taking a deep breath, Lydia opens her mouth and the scream that tears from her throat rings in her own ears as she pushes her hands forward.
Above them, two of the overhead lights shatter, raining glass down on them and Lydia barely notices because her focus is on the five men and women thrown back against structural pillars and the crowd itself from the sound waves of the deafening banshee cry. It surprises her all over again, like the cold gun, but she isn't willing to lose focus a second time; she can't. Snapping out of it, she grabs the blond's hand roughly and pulls. "Come on! My store!"
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The name Ronan rings out and it distracts her because she knows it — not Jackson — and Lydia turns in the direction of the sound. She points the gun and her finger fidgets at the trigger until it looks like Ronan and the guy yelling for him are clear of the shot. It's the first time she's fired the gun outside Cisco's corner of the back room. There's no kickback, but she still sucks in a gasp and yelps in surprise when the person coming at her with a steel pipe stops dead in his tracks. Literally frozen.
It's in her awe at the fact that she's literally frozen her attacker into a statue of ice — and the subsequent misguided swing of someone else's steel pipe that shatters him into a thousand glittering pieces on the floor — that she loses the gun. She's staring one second in awe and horror and the next second, she's being grabbed and tugged, her wrist being bent back painfully and the gun clatters to the floor.
Lydia spies Ronan making his way closer and she calls out, "get my gun! Don't let them get my gun!" before turning her eyes on the blond right in the line of fire for another swing from another protester. Lydia abandons the gun because Ronan-not-Jackson is moving in her direction and she's hoping like hell he's heard her, but instinct kicks in: they're trying to help her and now she needs to repay the favor.
Sprinting forward, Lydia kicks out at a protester's stomach and leaps up when the man doubles over, locking her thighs around his neck and swinging her body weight around to drop him to the ground. When she's level again and beside the blond rather than in front of him, she tries the scream again because it comes more naturally than it should. Taking a deep breath, Lydia opens her mouth and the scream that tears from her throat rings in her own ears as she pushes her hands forward.
Above them, two of the overhead lights shatter, raining glass down on them and Lydia barely notices because her focus is on the five men and women thrown back against structural pillars and the crowd itself from the sound waves of the deafening banshee cry. It surprises her all over again, like the cold gun, but she isn't willing to lose focus a second time; she can't. Snapping out of it, she grabs the blond's hand roughly and pulls. "Come on! My store!"