Seamus made to get up; acknowledge that he was actually awake and encourage Amycus to just get on with it. The whole waiting around thing was its own type of torture. However he was still a little out of it and something, either the idea of what was about to happen, or something, perhaps more literally (like Amycus’ foot) was holding him down. Keeping him submissive, “Sod off, Asshole.” Seamus figured he may as well at least appear to be one of those guys that wouldn’t go down without a fight. What else did he have? He pushed himself up against the weight and it had obviously just been his earlier thought; his own conscious pushing down on him, because he managed to hold himself up long enough to get the taste of dirt out his mouth with a spit.
13¼ Hornbeam, it was still there, digging into his thigh, as it reminded Seamus he wasn’t entirely alone. Not just yet. He after all was DA student, he could do this. Seamus held his breath and kept his hand at bay. Not yet, not when Amycus might be expecting it. The whole thing would have to come down to timing, when Amycus thought it was over then he could attack. Seamus brought his hand to his mouth, wiping away the dirt and trying his best to seem nonchalant.
He knew Amycus’ game. He liked to toy, liked that whole idea of a pre-show, before the main event. Seamus wanted to ask for an itinerary. No actually, Seamus still wanted a seven letter word for poultry. That damn crossword he had been working on at breakfast was still digging into his head. What’s a ‘4 letter word for coffin stand’ - seemed a little necessary now. While a ‘4 letter word starting with Q and ending with I’ didn’t, however Seamus couldn’t seem to get it out of his head anyway. He would admit, it was funny how people reacted differently then they imagined in times of great peril (or something like that). Like for example, Seamus had it down he would have been cracking some rather funny jokes and receiving a few kicks to the face in response, he however did not figure he would be thinking about crosswords and wait... chicken. That worked.
Seamus stood up, making sure he was at least standing when the first spell was cast. He wasn’t going to be hiding behind no tree. He was Irish, not Scottish. He dusted off his jeans and repeated his earlier statement, only louder this time, “SOD OFF, ASSHOLE!” Yeah that was bound to get Amycus worked up.