Much managed a smile at her, it was strained and crooked and there was still a good deal of alarm about the eyes, but it was still a smile. "Imma go straight for his balls next time he comes near you," he promised, giving Marcie's arms a rub. He wasn't sure which note to strike - if he should comfort her or try and make her laugh, and was worried he wasn't able to hit either. "He's a - a tyrannical nightmare throwing his weight around, he's going down. Somehow, somehow, he's going down."