[That look is one he has seen before, but not on this one, on someone else, and it's a sight he hasn't seen in centuries, one that drains the colour right out of his face.]

[Barely even thinking he shoots again - not even aiming properly, he can't - but that doesn't stop the force of the chair as it comes down right onto him, and the pain that comes with it, and the sound that comes out of his lips at that, something between a scream and a sob.]