[To his credit, Therion doesn't jump out of his skin so much as tense up, primed to bolt, charge, or go for the knives. He dismisses each thought just as instantly. Moriarty's an unknown, and in Daybreak's magic militia, Therion has to assume all such unknowns can wipe the floor with him. Escaping, even if he could, won't help; he's stuck here. He's well and truly caught. Again.

His alarm turns quickly to bitterness, but if the alert and wary way he watches Moriarty is any indication, he hasn't quite given up on himself.]

...I'll stand, if it's all the same to you.

[He'd rather be on his feet, between the man who caught him and his well-kept arsenal, thanks.]

I'm not used to others being able to sneak up on me like that. Am I losing my touch?