Even a young man would have been hard-pressed to avoid both attacks, and Javert had not considered himself young for a number of years now. He stumbled back as his sword slid off of the creature's claws: enough time and distance to escape the stinger as it whistled past, tearing through his greatcoat sleeve but thankfully nothing else--but not enough to recover before the second blow struck.

The creature's claws raked his upper arm and the better half of his chest, drawing an audible hiss from Javert as he retreated clumsily. His attachment to his old clothes served him well, as they usually did; the cuts were deep, but would have been far deeper without the greatcoat and frock coat in the way. Nevertheless, it was damnably inconvenient.

"Sadly, no," he returned through clenched teeth. "It seems experience has little effect on this creature. I suggest we make ourselves scarce."