Arthur's left hand moves, and perhaps this is the mistake John makes, staring at it, noticing how the fingers move without any stiffness or numbness, and how tight it grips just as-

John wasn't able to directly feel the pain Arthur felt through most of their journey together. Through the parts of him he had... taken, that pain was felt as clearly as if it was his own, because - well, it was. And through the mirror... Pain mattered as much or as little as anything else, and something that always happened to somebody else.

He isn't ready at all for the explosion of pain that comes from a knee to the groin, is what we're saying.

John folds like a cheap chair as quick as Arthur's blows to him, unable to get out more than an inarticulate noise before the air is knocked out of him and his new (and nearly new) legs give out.

Arthur, what the fuck.