She’s deep in her own head and distracted enough to not hear David coming at her from behind - sloppy work for an ex-Robin, and she’d silently chastise herself for it if her focus hadn’t been instantly pulled forward into dealing with this new heap of bullshit. Jayne goes down, but her training is so thoroughly ingrained that it’s practically instinct, and she uses the momentum to fall into a forward tumble, reorienting and steadying herself in a crouch facing David.

A deep scowl overtakes her expression. She doesn’t recognize him, and she doesn’t remember him from the diner. All traces of sorrow except for the evidence that she’d been crying - a redness to her eyes and damp lashes - is gone, replaced with indignation and a single-minded focus on the man in front of her.

“Look, kid - I don’t know what you think you’re doing here, but trust me when I say that you don’t wanna do it. Not today.”