At Orisa's call, Niko reluctantly backs down and returns to Melanie's side, his shaggy coat all but engulfing her uninjured shoulder and a portion of Orisa, as well. "I don't like this," he growls in an undertone. "He doesn't listen."

"He'll listen to Aziraphale," Melanie says with complete confidence. She might not like the way adults tend to dismiss her for her age (at least until they find out her IQ, which sometimes earns her a little respect), but she understands it, or at least isn't surprised by it. Mal's just another grown up who didn't take her seriously because she's young. But Aziraphale is old, and he's an angel - he's clearly an angel - so surely Mal will listen to him.

But he doesn't. He pulls out his gun again - as bad as a soldier, trying to solve everything by shooting at it - and Melanie stiffens in alarm. "Don't!" she objects, just as he changes his grip on the gun and swings it at the angel's head. Aziraphale staggers, and Orisa lets out a cry that's more indignant than pained, and Melanie is on her feet, staggering a little under Orisa's weight.

"NO!" she screams. Why is he doing this? "Stop! He's..." what? An angel, which any fool could see? Not a threat to her, which he's already made plain? Frightened, furious, she bellows, "He's mine!"

And they are not letting Mal hurt her angel.

Nikolaos doesn't change so much as sprout, neck and tail and all four limbs shooting outward and upward, head becoming bulbous, jaws widening to hold a truly appalling set of teeth, forepaws shifting into long, taloned fingers that flex menacingly. He towers over all of them, a deep growl rumbling in his cavernous chest, then lowers his head on its sinuous neck and fixes a large, red eye on the captain.

"You will not strike him again," thunders her jabberwock.