"Good," Harry grunted. "I'll go with him. Once he's taken care of - and preferably sedated - I'll come back." He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up worse than usual with the help of the sweat from both the earlier run and the dash to the house - not to mention the terror. Now that he was sure she was safe, his voice took on an accusatory tone. "Bloody hell, Gin. You scared me half to death. Next time I tell you I really mean something, will you listen? Or do we need some kind of code for "I really mean it", since the actual words don't seem to get through?"