Catra's lungs are aching, her muscles are burning, and she can't see. It's obvious that she needs to surrender, retreat, and regroup. She's done it before, she can pay Adora back for this later. It shouldn't be an issue.

She still rebels at the thought. Saying please, to Adora, sitting so smug and self-assured on top of her?

"Forget it," she chokes out, squirming away, arm tightening further around her stomach and shoving down to block Adora's path. It's bad enough that Adora has access to what she does, and that the tickling's made her so over-sensitive that even the twitch of her own arm is unbearable against the grass. She doesn't need to go letting Adora's hands claim any more territory than they've already won.