Darrow shoved him backwards and Ford's shoulders hit the shelf behind him. Something above his head clattered down to the floor with a loud noise that made him wince instinctively, but — this was still good. Darrow advancing towards him meant Darrow was getting farther from his wand. Every step away from the wand leveled the playing field further, and while Darrow still obviously had the upper hand physically, Ford was far more in control emotionally.

"You keep saying that," he pointed out. "You don't want to hurt me, and you want my help. But —" he rolled his eyes towards the side that Darrow had just hit him, to indicate what he was sure was at least a red mark on his temple. "You're not following through very well, and you still haven't told me what you're doing. So either you're lying, or —" he paused, for a moment realizing that perhaps this was a dangerous tactic, because — well, the next thing he said might be right — but it was too late to pull back now. "— you're losing it."