One, two seconds of sudden chaos, and through them Bastien's running an abstract, instinctive calculation: is this the moment? Are the odds of success here worth ruining the effort he's put so far into framing himself as someone none of them need to keep their guard up for? Is providing back-up for Teren's snarling lash-out worth cutting off any hope of surprising them later—maybe after he's finished methodologically wiggling all the bricks and has, say, someone's hidden fork? Or at least a brick—

Byerly's interference changes the math. Some of it. The odds of success, maybe. The apportionment of blame for the attempt, if it fails, and who might be punished for it, almost certainly.

Bastien moves without another instant of hesitation. Still some hedging; he's less coordinated than he could be, stumbling on his push away from the wall, making his collision with the guard who's launching toward Teren look more like a dumb rush of inexperienced heroics that happens to get lucky and crash them both into the bars.