Sirius catches Kate's bow, easily, one-handed, and luckily doesn't have to deal with catching Kate as well. The whip of the vines overhead securing the other mental here is nearly comforting, if still a little eerie, like being in some very combative Herbology exam. Quick mental note to thank Ms Dr Vines for all her help when all of this is over, and Kate stops looking at him like--
Well, like someone that's suffered from a badly-worked memory charm, or at least someone that's come out of a cave into a very bright light. Blank, but with a dark conviction somewhere in her that is, blessedly, fading. No time to overthink it, Sirius tells himself, firmly--he spares half a glance back toward Octavia, and then, right, rather than have to worry about talking her down as well, he flips a spell over his shoulder. A chair snaps out of thin air--or so it might seem, and anyone with an eye for it might recognise a chair from the SEC offices, or at least one so like it as to be its twin. It bumps forcefully into the backs of Octavia's knees, sweeping her off her feet.
Fully confident in his success, Sirius hadn't even waited to watch the chair versus Octavia. He's turned back to Kate already--her bow held somewhat clumsily in his hand, his wand in the other. "We can take care of them without them being dead. We can-- I dunno, question them. See how they found us. What the hell is she going to do, build a comm device out of her shoe? Come on." And, quieter--for Kate alone, he adds: "You're better than this, Kate. I know you are."
Shining moment of Gryffindor belief. He still doesn't quite like the look in Kate's eye, but likes less the idea of having to truss her up and carry her back under duress. Or something. Have her vined as well.
Merlin.
"I'll tie her up," he says, steadily, raising his wand a little--not a challenge, a demonstration. "We'll take her back. Everyone all right with that? Everyone not tied up in vines. We know your vote."
More shooting, probably. But not from Kate, and not just because she's not got her bow. Sirius turns a glance on her once more--steady, expectant, a little earnest. You're better than this, Kate, without actually saying it.
no subject
Well, like someone that's suffered from a badly-worked memory charm, or at least someone that's come out of a cave into a very bright light. Blank, but with a dark conviction somewhere in her that is, blessedly, fading. No time to overthink it, Sirius tells himself, firmly--he spares half a glance back toward Octavia, and then, right, rather than have to worry about talking her down as well, he flips a spell over his shoulder. A chair snaps out of thin air--or so it might seem, and anyone with an eye for it might recognise a chair from the SEC offices, or at least one so like it as to be its twin. It bumps forcefully into the backs of Octavia's knees, sweeping her off her feet.
Fully confident in his success, Sirius hadn't even waited to watch the chair versus Octavia. He's turned back to Kate already--her bow held somewhat clumsily in his hand, his wand in the other. "We can take care of them without them being dead. We can-- I dunno, question them. See how they found us. What the hell is she going to do, build a comm device out of her shoe? Come on." And, quieter--for Kate alone, he adds: "You're better than this, Kate. I know you are."
Shining moment of Gryffindor belief. He still doesn't quite like the look in Kate's eye, but likes less the idea of having to truss her up and carry her back under duress. Or something. Have her vined as well.
Merlin.
"I'll tie her up," he says, steadily, raising his wand a little--not a challenge, a demonstration. "We'll take her back. Everyone all right with that? Everyone not tied up in vines. We know your vote."
More shooting, probably. But not from Kate, and not just because she's not got her bow. Sirius turns a glance on her once more--steady, expectant, a little earnest. You're better than this, Kate, without actually saying it.