[Prefect rocks back slightly from the force of the punch, taking two, staggered steps away from Kirk before slowly straightening back up. He cocks his head at an angle that should really not be possible, then does a slight spin to face Kirk again, jutting one shoulder forward.

When he grins, it's precise, perfect, and pure Factory. There's a small stain of blood across his teeth.]

Sorry Comrade, that isn't contained within my functioning.

[This is easy. Prefect can live with a month of this, as long as he carefully avoids thinking what happens when the month is up? he's fine.]