"Clarisse," an answering call lost under the sound of Barrow's blind bull-rush tackle, the wind getting knocked the fuck out of Lazar. She was about to drag Clarisse up off the ground but it now seems like a better idea to get involved in the new scuffle taking place on the ground.

She goes that way, dodging errant kicks and arms flailing, hesitating for exactly zero seconds before she jumps onto Barrow's back to try and get her arms around his neck, pry him off.