Ciel's now ruby eyes micro-analyzed the tightening of Keres's grotesque, chitinous grip against Catalina.
Creak... click...
The serrated edges of Keres's forelimbs dug into the fabric of Catalina's clothes, holding her suspended like a broken puppet.
Ciel sharpened his hearing, filtering out the deafening roar of Salia's shrieks and the thunderous thwip-thwip-thwip of plasma guns firing incessantly.
He checked the timing of Keres's movements, calculating his exact reaction time, and measuring precisely how much the pressure of that deadly grip loosened whenever his focus changed.
Then, his mind worked way beyond and quickly assessed how much more loosened he needed that grip to be to snatch Catalina safely, completely unscathed, out of Keres's deadly embrace.
If he were a millisecond too slow, the reflex arc of the Zerg could snap Catalina in half.
If he were too fast, the friction alone would tear her skin.
