Flonne couldn't remember a time when she'd covered ground at such a speed. The short sprint from the grounds to the tent felt like an eternity, as worry and abject fear are wont to extend time beyond its normal limits.

Unfortunately for Flonne, her worst expectations were not to be disappointed. She'd heard lightening and screams, and what she saw were panicking blond people and - oh no she'd been too late - Laharl on the ground, hurt. "Laharl-san!" she cried, running towards him and dropping to her knees beside him. "Laharl-san, are you alright? Laharl-san!" Now was a terrible time to be without enough magic to cast a strong healing spell, which was the spot Flonne found herself in. He'd been hurt, and she couldn't help...

But this didn't just happen. Somebody hurt him. Somebody had done this to Laharl. Death and Timon were both angry at that blonde woman...she seemed happy about something, and she had a knife...Laharl had mentioned a Larxene...that was it. That had to be it.

And with that, all of Flonne's emotions simply boiled over. She was tired and worried about Laharl and frustrated and scared and she just didn't know what to do anymore and she hated it! Rightly or wrongly, all that emotional turmoil came out directed at the woman with the knife. "Stop it!" she screamed, leaping to her feet and calling her own staff to her hand almost by frustrated accident. "Stop hurting Laharl-san! Why can't you just leave us alone?"