[She's way too close. If the tables were turned, Denji would be scrambling backwards and yelling something about how this is too close. But Aki won't be so uncouth, so - lame.]

[At least, until her hand is skimming up the inside of her shirt and her brows raise as high as he hairline. She thinks she's going to go even farther for a moment, all the way up her top, but then she stops on the scar, still dark and thick with a keloid. She feels her hair stand on end at how - sensitive it is. Not the scar itself. That's long since healed. But the touch... Why is she touching her like this?]

Did you want me to look scared?

[It's not like Denji ever looks particularly scared during anything that happens to them, either. Though, Denji doesn't have as much to worry about. Still.]

I was afraid, then. But... [She sighs, pulling herself upright at last and setting her legs down. She pushes Denji back with the motion, trying to find a way to sit so she isn't half bent over, but if she's going to insist on this position, she won't dislodge her completely, pressing her legs between hers so that she can sit over her lap.] There. I wasn't afraid of dying, or anything. I was more worried about getting out of there - I wouldn't have let myself die to some stupid knife.

[Talk about a stupid way to go. She reaches up to raise her shirt a little more, letting her stomach show along with the thin, light scars that cover it in random places. Marks that are mostly healed, but still leftover from other fights. Fights where it wasn't about protecting someone, specifically, just herself.]

I've dealt with worse than some screaming guy waving around a knife.