Re: Miles & Oliver - Bring it on!
Only someone as cocky as Wood could possibly think to call out his name so mockingly in the middle of a battle. It made him furious, but he was not going to hide like a girl when such taunts were made.
With the disillusionment hiding him, he managed a soft laugh when he heard Wood's girlish cry of pain. He turned to see the killing curse had not struck its mark, more was the pity, but he saw an unfamiliar wand movement, and wondered just what the hell the bastard was doing as he came straight for him head on.
He turned, knowing he should probably have his own shields up even as he felt the burning sear of the sharpest of needles that sliced into his back. But it was only a momentary discomfort. One did not sit under the tattooist's needle for that long and find needles to me more than a distraction. Spinning sharply on the spot, the bulk of the needles tore at his billowing robes, shredding them.
Wood was tiring - not him - just his bravado. The more he saw him in the air and realised that it wasn't one of his own brooms being flown, the more he realised that it had to be Hooch's. Damn that woman, he needed to get his hands on the broom, but right now, he just wanted Wood dead.
If Wood could play chicken, then so could he. Turning his broom around, he was off like a shot, ready to meet Wood head on. The dark and evil smirk on his face could not be moved, and Wood would be the one to turn tail and run like a girl instead of letting them crash. He was getting closer and even with his own personal shields up, he could almost count the individual pox marks on Wood's face, yet he leaned lower and gathered speed.