The corner of Johannes' mouth turned down as his nostrils flared. Showy displays of magic always irritated him, but using magic to threaten people was downright disgusting. The tavern-woman's flight with her hapless barmaid and the rugrats scrambling away barely registered - he was too focused on Bast. Johannes took a single sliding half-step backwards so that the flames wouldn't touch him, but he kept as close to Bast as otherwise possible.

It came as a surprise to Johannes when the kids didn't simply scurry away. He had not expected the girl to make a move, to do something as risky as go for his ankles. Not when it meant leaving that dumbfounded-looking boy unattended and wasting precious seconds they could be using to put distance between themselves and Bast. Suspicions and curiosity rolled around in his head, but that was for later.

When the girl slashed at Bast's ankles, Johannes took advantage of this opening. Reaching to a slim leather pocket-sheaf on the side of his dark brown cargo pants, he wrapped his fingers around something. In a flash, he had it out - a long knife with a handle like a pair of brass knuckles - and he didn't hesitate for a second.

Johannes lunged forward, disregarding the flames, and slashed at Bast's throat.