"Shit, shit, shit," Claude's chorus of curses was well and loudly pronounced as he was bowled over, his grip on the broom slackening. It wasn't like it mattered, though, since his shoulders were currently pinned in a manner that left his arms next to useless. "Good kitty. Nice kitty. Back off now, please," Claude murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle as he squirmed under the weight of the Sarah-panther. "You don't want to eat me. Nothing but booze and chips. You'd get sauced and have a heart attack at the same time."
Peter's sudden presence on the scene, however, alleviated some of the worse of Claude's fears. Peter wasn't going to let his wife to be eat anyone especially not him. Well, maybe he was being presumptive with that 'especially not' bit, but he would hope that he warranted some consideration. Peter's suggestion to become visible wasn't exactly the most comforting idea to Claude, but he figured it was probably better than being invisible if it actually got him out of the situation he was in now.
Dropping the cloak of invisibility, Claude stared up at the teeth still bared not more than a few inches from his face, Claude flicked his gaze over at Peter and lifted an eyebrow slowly at him, "Haven't seen a shifter in nearly two decades. Always forget how vicious they can be when they're not in control."