". . . Very well."
She would reach for her own blade, only to grasp the hilt.
"ππ’π π»πππ ππππ!"
Malenia's weapon, and her prosthetic arm, would suddenly be ripped out of her grasp, flinging onto the floor.
"If you can't resist my Thu'um, you are powerless."
She keeps the sword pointed, offering no answer but the cold, uncaring nature of her sharpened edge.