"No, Spinnet, I am le—I said appearance, which me—" Smirking when Charlie waved him away in disgust and turned to more stimulating company, he did a quick summon for his cloak and muffler and headed for the doors. For once, Axe hadn't been put upon to go make nice and smile for nosy reporters with flashing cameras and self-dictating quills. In fact, he'd been strongly encouraged to avoid Spinnet's bash, given his Keeper's rapid spiral into social debauchery, etc.
This had been one factor in his presence tonight, because "don't do this" could only be interpreted as "please, repeat this activity to the fullest of your extent" to Axe. Being a foreigner and all, of course. The other had been the incessant badgering his host, his shadow Zoey, her shadow Joey, and Kate, likely in retaliation for any one of several locker-stuffings, had subjected him to. Perhaps a small third reason was the diminishing need to dunk Charlie's head in a boiling cauldron off field, after saddling him with Therese Bonaccord. Reluctantly, Axe thought, he might have to concede her methods had a way of working. Either that, or Spinnet's libido ran a tighter ship than previously thought. Likely a combination of both.
He glared at an acquaintance who tried to forestall his departure and was pushing past the heavy double doors when a shrill voice had him wincing in his attempt to keep from flinching, like he'd heard it.
It was quite difficult not to, though.
Pivoting slightly in his step, he glanced behind him and was only mildly surprised (largely outweighed by relief) to see it was only Therese. "Help you, Healer?" he asked.
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