The second the lasso was loose, Agent Barnes ducked underneath of it and came up, physically blocking the space between the woman and his handler. The programming was definitely breaking down; his failures kept mounting and this woman could have injured or killed his handler. And that was unacceptable. Assets, even good ones, were replaceable. Agents, less so.
He made a fist with his left hand, sending the bands that doubled as muscle tissue skittering up his arm. He could deal with this threat. And there was no mistake in Agent Barnes' mind. She was a threat.
But she also hadn't made a further attempt on Jefferson's safety. And his handler's orders were clear: no violence, no trouble. So as much as it pained him, Agent Barnes took a breath and stepped back, putting himself beside Jefferson. Close enough to block a shot or attack if he had to, but far enough away that there wasn't any significant or obvious danger of him laying hands on the woman with the lasso. Not that he didn't have plenty of reason anyway.
"I don't need help," he said. "I complete my missions." He couldn't quite wipe the scowl off his face. "On time. Without failure."
Regardless of everything else, though, if this woman thought she would convince Agent Jefferson to relieve the asset of his weapons on a permanent basis--well. He'd heard they had places to put people so far out of touch with reality.