Jon's face instantly drops to terror, a sharp breath taken through his nose, and a hand snaps up to catch her arm. He doesn't dare try to pull her away, though - not with the way those nails dig. A sickly vision of his face being pulled away like clay from a block rises to his mind, and try as he might, he can't shake it.

"L--- let go of me," he tries to manage, though it's barely coherent, with how his jaw his held open. His other hand fumbles the counter, searching. For what? A tool to push her away, something to call someone over? He isn't even sure, but he needs something.