Still lying on his back, he's going to close his eyes for a minute, like he's trying to remember something. "Phase three. I was twelve." The third round of surgeries. He opens his eyes. "Plus we train a lot." Just not that particular move. He wasn't keen to wrap his legs around a tyranid's tusks.

...though if he had a heavy bolter in his hands that would be fun to try.

He nods, watching her move. "Are you good?" Because he may have gone a little too hard on that one kick to her ribs.