Second Time is a Charm

Jack watched the werewolf approach with a calm demeanor, her breath as steady as someone approaching a bank teller. As he neared, she swung her arm with the lamb shank at the same he reached for it. She released, keeping space between herself and the werewolf. Again, he dispelled threats to her, but if he were really going to succeed at attacking her, it would have to be done without a warning. This pup was a bit too much bark, she was finding.

"I'm no lamb," Jack quipped, before turning on her heel. She managed to disapparate backwards, putting ten or so extra feet between herself and Blood. It was enough to give her a head start, but also small enough to keep him tempted and on her trail, rather than on Khaat's trail. She could see Michael and the other man watching her, and she hoped they understood her intention. She needed to stay within distance until Khaat was off the premises - then she could get to the ass kicking.

(Sooooo sorry guys. Brain power is seriously low. XD)

Michael saw very clearly what Jack wanted to do, and his first instincts were to want to do whatever was necessary to remove her from harm's way.  His grip tightened on his wand.  He was about to strike. His options were very few. In fact, he only saw two halfways reasonable choices and not more than a moment to decide.

He saw Edward make a very slight flick of his wrist. Just enough to warn him to hold.  Michael knew enough of Edward to know that he was no fool. Michael had a choice to make. He had to choose to throw his own life between Jack and James.  Or--he had to choose to trust Jack's life to Edward.  And at the moment, he didn't like either choice.

James had caught the glimmer in the shorter old man's eyes. He was invested, wasn't he? He grinned and then laughed.

"Come on, Old Man!" he bellowed, "You think you can take me? Whatsa matter? Got a thing for gingers, have you?"

Donohue didn't play. James could see that. The other old buggar, well, James just wasn't sure. Donohue wasn't moving and seemed to be holding off the weirdo.

"Alright, Lambie Pie," he said to the ginger. "You wanna play? I'll play." He had every intention of ripping her apart if he caught her. He had no second thoughts, no hesitation. He had toyed with her long enough. He had speed and strength on his side. And he wasn't bothered by any sense of conscience. His hardened stare bored right into her face.

"Run," he said to her quietly, ready to end this--and end her.