"I gain nothing, but I retain my dignity," Carlisle cuts through the barrier, a thin line of ink trailing down his jaw. He spits a blackened mass of it to the ground beside him, partially out of necessity, and partially as an insult. If only his barrier wouldn't keep him from spitting it at her feet.

No, that's probably a terrible idea, he chastises inwardly, as was stepping between a demon and her quarry to begin with. He tries to swallow down his fear, knowing it will only hinder his grasp on his energies. He sucks in a breath, taking note of the shift in her stance. She hasn't left them yet, but she has other distractions, other prey.

And well, if she goes after them... at least it isn't Pratt. No one has ever said he was entirely altruistic. Understanding all too well that feeling of helplessness -- he's been there plenty of times while cowering, watching others defend him -- he murmurs to Pratt. "Just stay with me. Your presence emboldens me with a brashness I may regret later, but need now."