Marc's hand snapped out, quicker than the big man looked like he should be, gripping Blake's wrist and yanking it back. "You can fucking well explain to Cap yourself, Blake. M'not your fucking messenger boy. Go." He growled, low and deep. "I'll deal with the bitch."
He twisted Blake's wrist down, turning the man or else his arm would break, and shoving him towards the door. When Blake spun back, Marc went under his strike, catching him in the gut with a sharp punch, pushing him. "Go," he ordered. He didn't look at Spinnett, hoping the ex-Gryffindor at least had enough sense to sit her arse back down.