Waver had never wished more fervently that he had his assistant with him than he did when the blood starts to flow. Gray had her scythe and the general ability to withstand combat, unlike Waver who after enough running, would become nothing more than a wheezing mess. Then again, just about any other mage from the Clock Tower would be capable of more in this moment. He even missed catching the shovel, instead allowing it to clatter down onto the ground and smack his foot before picking it back up.

"Everyone get within arms length of me then," he snapped, now no longer asking about risks but instead making it clear that he was in control. It was an illusion, of course, but no one ever trusted a nervous mage in a situation of life or death. "That way I don't miss a single person here."

He flicked off a little bit of ash from the cigar, as if that was the catalyst for the spell. It wasn't, of course, it was just annoying to have there. What came next was all too simple: the air where the great dragon should have snapped her teeth next simply saw her snout press against the barrier. A great, terrifying, fire breathing dog with her nose to the glass.

Waver breathed a sigh of relief.

"How long until she gets bored?"