At first he waits, the words of warning enough to prepare himself for a counter attack.

But then nothing happens except a word that means nothing to him and only serves to give the Soldier a brief moment of confusion, eyes narrowing behind a curtain of dirty hair. Whatever had been meant to occur seemed to have failed, given his chosen targets next reaction.

The fear at least was familiar.

He twists the rudimentary dagger, metal scratching at metal and in the next step lunges forward, stabbing for Sirius throat.