[It takes maybe two seconds for him to realize that nothing is happening. That even the plastic-white skin that should be showing as his hand isn't present; it just looks normal. No forceful interfacing, no delving into her thought or memory. Nothing, nothing, damn it, nothing-

And then North is reaching out, fingers coiled harshly around the back of his neck, bringing him forward and down. Straight into her knee, and it's by some blessed miracle that she misses his nose... though it cracks straight into the side of his face, harsh against the cheekbone facsimile of his features.

It's jarring in the way his vision stutters for a second, that his system registers undue force against his face (thanks, programming), but pain is a thing that doesn't greet him, as always. Yet alarm does, and Connor reaches out to push her away, which means the bowl of candy is falling and clumsily spilling at both of their feet.

When given space, he straightens almost immediately, his face twisted in displeasure. No point in playing coy now.]

You know something. And you need to save us both the effort and tell us what it is you know about Jericho. All of you can only stay holed up for so long.