He offers her a small, sick smile at the race of her heart, and then sobers, forcing himself to focus on the question and not the near overwhelming desire to take a swing at her with the pipe. Revenge is great, but he's already had it, in twisting the shards in her back, a few minutes ago. He doesn't need more. He needs to remember that.

Taking a deep breath, he tightens his hold on the pipe, metal giving slightly beneath his fingers, finding an outlet for his need for violence before answering. "Don't telegraph how you're going to move. Just decide where you're going and go. Don't hesitate. Don't look in that direction before you move. Don't stop, once you've started. If you do, anyone who's had as much experience reading people as I do will know where you're going." A pause, and then, "Or if you're not in a fight, they'll know you don't belong there."

It's about confidence. When they say in movies that looking like you belong somewhere when you're sneaking around helps, they're right. And, that in mind, without even really thinking about it, he moves behind a stack of crates. Without Suresh's speed. Without his telekinesis. And it's still frightening casual, nevertheless.