As the Scarecrow took his time deciding whether to strike or not, Kayako kept her empty-eyed focus fully on Depth Charge's face, hair sweeping slowly out of her face as if stirred back by a wind that couldn't be felt. Improbably, despite her diminutive frame, her head shifted up higher, closer to Depth Charge's, as if to examine her victim or to make the rattling sound coming from her throat clearer.

At the same time, her hands crushed in at either side of his head, as if trying to push through his skull (and was it just a trick of the mind, or were her fingers pressing inside his temples?). Eyes wide, almost curiously so, and neck still tilted, she looked like she neither saw nor expected the blow that came when the Scarecrow made up his mind.

But her body jolted, the flashlight landing with a dull smacking noise, as if her flesh had long rotted. And her head -- jerked around, still dangling in that broken way, eyes rolling slowly over to focus on the Scarecrow now. Her grip did loosen on Depth Charge's face, but otherwise the blow looked like it hadn't hurt her in the least.

It had drawn her attention. As suddenly and quickly as she'd moved the first time, Kayako was in front of the Scarecrow, one hand reaching up and right through his head, with all the attendant pain expected of suddenly having a limb slammed through bone and no visible wound. Fingers extended out the back of his skull and gripped into a fist, grabbing a handful of brown hair.