Desmond was thinking well-armed fool at this point. God, how could he react so instinctively? Stupid! This world really put him on edge.

Desmond's arms shook as he pressed what weight he had left to manage back toward Haytham, trying to speak just as he found a knee going into his gut. The wind escaped him, but it swept back momentarily.

"W-...wait!" He focused more on trying to get Haytham's blade away from him rather than get his own back. He didn't want to actually kill the man, but he was panicked and angry enough to know he certainly would if he had to. Shitshitshit.