Oh, hell no. [She says with a snort, still buzzing with newbie adrenaline.
She uses her knee to give him a shove, flipping him over so she can climb back on top of him and seat herself on him like a throne. A throne she grinds down against, playing her thumb against his throat and letting her nail graze his skin. He doesn't breath. She doesn't breathe. It's so much more fascinating now, when she squeezes his throat and it doesn't matter. She has power, though, and she enjoys how it quakes through her veins.]
If you want to act your age though and nap, you can, grandpa.