He feels nervousness, a certain sense that there is a hunt, primal instinct crawling on his back. Heine's hands clench and unclench as he goes to the window to look out at the sky, like that will tell him if the clock is correct. As he walks over he feels something odd, yet not wholly unfamiliar—the sensation of a slick, wet substance on the insides of his thighs.

For a long moment he just stares unseeingly out the window. The urge to turn and tear into the other person in the room is almost too much, and not entirely his own. Heine has to fight it; his shoulders tense even further in the second before he turns around and sends a wordless spell at Jade, aiming to just grab him and pin him to the wall—but the force is too much and certain to at least bruise.