The axe remained, suspended in its deep cut into the ship, and instead a hand darted out of the door to grab Jon by the collar of his shirt and haul him up off of his feet. Inside the ship, he crashed onto his back on the ground, something very heavy dropped ruthlessly onto his chest, and he was slammed across the face to knock his head back against the metal again.

Above him, a woman stared coldly, knee digging into his ribs to hold him down and grip still on his shirt, fist drawn back and ready for another punch to shatter his nose if there wasn't a very fruitful discussion forthcoming. "Who are you?" she demanded.