He held strong as he could, not wanting hurt her but much more willing some bruises on her wrists than what might come if he actually had to defend himself against a true attack.
He grunted and cursed softly but his grip didn't falter, he just leaned down closer to her. He expected the headbutt to come next so he angled his chin toward her instead of his nose and kept talking. "You are Peggy. Margaret Carter. You were born in London in 1921. Your mother was Amanda, your father was Harrison, you had a brother Edward. I met you in 1943 and god-dammit I loved you from the moment you punched a guy in the face within 30 seconds of meeting him. You are Peggy, you're not their soldier." He rambled quickly, pushing her left arm down to her hip and pinning it between her side and his leg so he could reach up and pull the mask off.