*It's distinctly diagonal - the angled, fleshy sound of someone veering and buckling into a wall. It's companionship. Companionship in lack of foresight and lack of air and desperate, hurried fumbling. The doors burst inwards, an implosion of sound and a rush of relief and mostly an end to the game. The wheezing comes before Barty's wand, its tip buried into the back of Sirius' neck, his planned one liner lost in his own strained gulping.*