She ducked the bottle and the shower of glass that followed it, flowing almost seamlessly into a low, sweeping kick meant to catch Tony's legs. The lap was abandoned in favour of rolling further into the room, and away from Tony. He could have escaped. But she'd bet everything she had that he'd pursue her until one of them drew their last breath. She threw open a cupboard, an ironing board falling out and providing a short lived barrier as she grabbed the iron, lifting it offensively, free fist curling round the cord and pulling it taught.