It isn't a choice. It isn't its business. The black mask tilts sharply, sound quickening to a growl as Rinzler takes a step forward—only for his gaze to snap sideways, a half-turn back as rapid steps resolve to a familiar—

*WHAM*

The blow connects with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and Rinzler turns with the force, skidding back a few steps and into a low crouch. Texas. Is he not allowed to even talk to her new pet, now? Or is she lashing out at him for something else? Some half-remembered irritation? Some problem with her day?

How like a user.

He jerks his head to the side, ignoring the geometric cracks now spiraling a little further through the filter of his mask. Paired disks undock with a sharp click, twist apart with a flare of light and a low snarl. If she wants a fight, she has one.

And she won't lay hands on him again.