There's a gentle touch against her shoulder and the unmistakable scent of Nag Champa as Molly passes by Jester, red eyes focused on the bastard in front of them. Whatever new bullshit this was, he hadn't expected to see him.

It would be a lie to say he wasn't frightened. A little nauseous, even - but there was no chance in any hell that he was stepping aside. If it was really Jester, he'd die a hundred times to protect her. What was the worst that could happen, after all?

Pulling out his scimitars, he whips them back over his nape and stands ready to fight.

"Hey, asshole!"