Moira doesn't even mew in protest when James snatches her from the floor, still sore from hitting the wall. Damn, she thinks, what a bitch. She's going to fell that ache for days, probably, and it annoys her more than being carried by James as they run down another hallway. Moira hears the hissing of the snakes and really hopes James is up to date on his Greek mythology, seeing as she can't actually remind him not make the dumb ass move of looking the other woman in the eyes.

"Well, if you want to run, help yourselves. I always did like a good chase," she drawls, like some kind of villain out of Buffy. Moira digs her claws into James, not maliciously, but to hold on as they round another corner, trying to keep ahead of the snakes.