“Don’t you wish.” Johann grinned. Yes, he thought, but not because I want one. It was delightful to poke fun at such a creep. He had enough alcohol in him to have the courage to.

When the trouble broke out across the room, Ira’s piano innocently caught in the crossfire, Johann instinctively hid behind Grimm. Anything to do with Ira brandishing her wand sent him cold, and his shoulder met the bookcases Grimm had pushed the book back into before him, bringing back further memories of January. Without consciously realising, Johann’s hand went to his nose as if he had been struck, before pushing away the horrible memory of Ira’s assault.

Had Balfour not smashed the window, Johann might not have come to his sense so quickly. He had observed, and now consciously recognised what his partner had done. His blue gaze darted around the others, found Ignan taking steps backwards, wand in a defensive pose, protecting Miranda,

It was quick calculation. Mihai had landed the first hit - for whatever reason - did one ever truly need a reason to hate Ira Almasy now? Ira was bleeding, satisfaction mixed with terror at the sight. She was retaliating, unworried of multiple witnesses - playing the same game she had with Balfour in January, allowing Mihai to become the attacker, herself just casting in self-defence.

Balfour and Mihai were close friends. The window was broken for function. Just as Ignan was retreating Miranda to look for escape from this horrid, uncomfortable evening, Balfour sought one for seething Mihai. There was no holding Zamperia back, Johann knew the other wizard’s physical strength from close contact one sordid night, even without his wand in his hand.

Heart in his mouth, he shot past Grimm in a low dash, using the piano for cover, and shot behind Mihai, hoping that any curse Ira landed would only hit Mihai and not himself too. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh-
“Not here!” He begged Mihai, tugging at the shoulder which didn’t bear his wand. Johann dipped down behind the obliviator like he was a human shield as Grimm had been. “Witnesses!” He hissed. Much as he wanted Ira Almasy to get her comeuppance, there was no hope in hell of covering up so many people. Which was, he suspected, Ira’s plan.

Balfour's blood went cold, stopping in his veins as he watched his partner cross the drawing room towards what was arguably the least desirable place in the entire world right now. How anyone could call Johann a coward, he would never know. Both the German and Zamperia were well within Ira's line of sight now. There was no telling what one was saying to the other but that puzzle could wait for later.

Since shattering the great window overlooking Knightsbridge, other guests had cleared out of the way. The Scotsman brandished his wand again to send bits of furniture out of the way.

He looked back towards Mihai - his shoulder had caught a bit of fire, though he was otherwise untouched. Ira had dissipated her curse and was ready to throw up a shield against whatever the Obliviator was going to do next. Balfour didn't want to give either of them a chance... even if he didn't have the best vantage point to do it.

"Infligo!" he exclaimed loudly enough that even their host stared in his direction, distracted. An invisible force knocked Mihai back across the room and into the corner where the wall and window met - fuck! The ceiling chandelier shook from the force of impact. Almost out. "Johann--!"

Balfour's voice was urgent but he needn't have worried; his eyes flicked back to his partner in time to catch the other wizard casting a deft Knockback Jinx[1] at Mihai: just enough of a shove to send their friend tumbling out of the window. Of the sixth floor.

Because that's what friends are for, after all.

1.	With approval from Kit!

The flames barely licked his leg, though the adrenaline coursing through him only made him marginally aware of it. Just as he aimed another curse at Ira[1], Balfour's spell forced him out the window. For a moment, he felt outraged, intruded upon. Then, Mihai realized that this was an out. A way for him to escape.

He focused on a location, just outside the magical borders of his home.

With a loud crack Mihai disapparated, leaving behind nothing but a small piece of bloodied flesh on the balcony of the second floor.

Exit (most of) Mihai

1.

Same one

Silence.

No, not precisely. The sweet chiming of crystals from the swaying chandelier overhead as it threw alternating shadows over the guests of her dinner party. Hard, panicked breaths. Calmer ones. Whimpers - her two huskies, Ivoire and Sangre, trying in vain to hide behind Balfour even as the room was coming to a clear halt from its burst of sudden activity. He placed a hand on one of their heads, shushing sweetly, staring not at Ira but at Johann Storm.

This irritated her. The Russian witch dropped her wand, feigning exhaustion and hurt from injuries sustain - she clasped the gash on her right arm before sinking into the closest armchair.

At last her favoured tenant spoke, moving to join her. "Do you need any--?" he began even as she shook her head to dismiss his aid.

"Niet." Ira swallowed, licking her lips and glancing at the witches and wizards who had all been audience to the evening's violence: in their eyes she was only a victim of Zamperia's unreasonable outburst. Somehow she felt it too, that pain of victimhood. A vulnerability she did not want them to witness. "Please, could you..." she looked between Balfour and Johann, infinitely more useful than her actual hounds.

They could be relied upon to show her guests out. "My assistant will be here shortly to help." Ira supplied before looking to the others, her vision clouding. Ignan Storm and his wife. Gilchrist and Jacqueline. Alberic, who would no doubt stay behind whilst Layton mended her.

She rested her head against the back of the chair. The performance was over - and like any performance, at a personal cost.