Michael turned away from Ean and glared at Rachel. “Seriously?!” He demanded. He sounded genuinely aggrieved. “This loser gets a dinner date and I get a bowling alley?”
Rachel strained to sit up, it could only lift her head a little — not enough to see. “Ean?” She sounded stunned. “Be careful! This guy is crazy!”
“Hey!” Michael snarled in protest — but not in protest of being called crazy. That was old hat, for him. “Don’t you ignore me when I’m murdering you! It’s rude!” He brandished his dagger. “Pay attention, or I swear I’ll…”
Michael didn’t get to finish his threat. As soon as the words ‘murdering you’ had crossed his lips, Ean had instinctively reacted to protect Rachel: proving she was a legitimately a romantic interest of his. So there.
Anyway: Ean had pulled his arm back and then whipped it forward, sending the crowbar hurtling at Michael. The chunk of metal flipped end over end toward the necromancer, with Ean charging in right behind it — his broken off floor board leveled in front of him like a spear.
But then the crowbar attempted to cross a circle of runes that hovered just an inch off the floor, glowing dimly enough to not be obvious in the room’s other lights. The crowbar was repulsed, bouncing off of empty air while the wards flared angrily. And then Ean, unable to stop himself in time, slammed into the air above the same magic circle and was blasted of his feet.