He rose to his feet, and she went completely still for a moment before the slight shaking returned. She continued glaring and clenched her fists around the knife handles, trying to keep up the illusion that all of her behavior was the result of anger. When he took a step closer, she felt as if he was closing off the space behind him, making the turbolift even smaller. If he came closer still, it would shrink again. He took another step, and she started to shake harder and pressed her back against the wall, desperate for there to be more space between them, for there to be more space, period. She needed to rise to her feet, needed to taunt him back, but she was afraid that her legs wouldn't hold her. "Stay away from me," she snarled.