Though he isn’t trigger happy with his anger, Tyson tends to lash out in fear. Like a cornered animal, he snaps and growls, and fights for every inch of space even to his own detriment.
Even in the moment, Tyson knows its a bad idea, that he shouldn’t spurn kindness freely given, but he can’t help it. He didn’t survive Moran by being naive, by accepting things at face value. He survived by refusing to fall, always pushing to live no matter what; even, or perhaps especially, when he believed that he wouldn’t.
Once Tyson is given a reason to be wary around someone, he will turn tail; notable exceptions, as always, being the Moriarty Mirrors and The Colonel. He can’t afford to give second-chances, to wait and see if someone is truly dangerous before leaving. Not with his life experiences and not in his line of work.
His words cut with a vitriol that Tyson could never achieve if he was trying to hurt someone. Tyson often censors himself and forces himself into clunky sentences to work around his stutter, but he can be shockingly eloquence when the situation calls for it. Hurting someone else enough to leave him alone apparently calls for it in Tyson’s panicking mind.
He doesn’t resort to violence unless he absolutely has to. That isn’t about being merciful. Tyson knows that hitting hard enough to leave a mark is enough to draw more attention onto him, the person wanting payback or the police getting involved, and when he’s scared and running, Tyson doesn’t want more attention.