To say he hadn't been expecting the attack was an understatement-- but instincts and his senses still hadn't entirely failed him, and he was half-turning to meet the attack before he had consciously registered it was happening.

All the same, shock slowed him enough that the masked figure was successful in slamming him into the wall. Long's eyes were wide, like a startled animal's, and his very white teeth were bared, like an animal's as well. His eyes are glowing slightly in the dark, amber light, and that is not really so common.

After a second of nostrils flared, teeth bared-- civilization (or humanity) settles back over Long's face like a curtain dropping, his lips pursing to a thin, hostile line.

One long-fingered hand darts up swiftly to the masked figure's throat, wraps around it in a quasi-mirror of the way Rorschach is holding him.

"I could ask you the same question," he says in very calm, very British tones. "Kindly put me down."

Long does not like his feet not being able to touch the floor. At least, not in this body.