[It isn't an odd reaction. The part of Cole that's still used to acting as a person feels particularly aware of the next time his heart beats (making a dragon wary. Too close, be ready to be unseen and go), but it's damp, distant, and dissociated. He keeps his eyes on the dragon's face, stands put...

Tilts his head, himself, on Draco's exhale, relaxing into feeling it, to an extent. Warm air for what isn't a warm sigh; the contrast gives the mind a quick quiver.

Cole's head drops, brow pinches. Brim of his hat shades his face, tiny twitching shake of his head, to himself, true, too much room not to let that enter the mind, risk of too many at once who would.

But turns back up. That's distant, too, for now.]

You wouldn't let them win...

And you wouldn't have to kill them though it might be better, depending on why they want to. [Depends on whether it would be mistake or misunderstanding, or malice.] The ones who would heed would know you wouldn't be wrong to stop them. The ones who didn't know better wouldn't have to be hurt; force a flight, scared, because they should be because they oughtn't, and then they would.

[Know better, that is to say.]