Even though Leng didn’t slow his pace or fully look to the side, it actually ached and was frustrating to leave Shepard barely clinging to the edge of the hole the gunship had made in the floor. It was a very specific ache. The kind of ache that was a longing to take out an equal opponent with one’s own two hands, not a fall from extreme height. But he had wasted enough time fighting Shepard and her cohorts. He was on a deadline. The holder of his leash demanded promptness. So the doberman left his opponent to her fate, while hoping she would survive.