Perhaps unsurprisingly, Protego rather liked spooky things. It rather went along with him primary interests, after all, and Protego fancied himself as not being easily scared. Wandering through the darkened exhibits of the Irvingly zoo was enough to be excitingly stimulating. And, anyway, even a workaholic deserved a night off sometimes.
He was reasonably distractable walking along, so it might have been inevitable that he bump into someone, but it was still a surprise when Protego went to take a step back the dark glass he was standing in front of and felt someone crash into him--with enough force that he realized, belatedly, that they must have hit him rather than the other way around, but Protego still stuck him arms out instinctively, as if that would do anything, and instead it through him further off balance and he ended up sprawling on the ground on his stomach, barely missing hitting his head on something in the dark, his breath leaving him in a painful whoosh.
He was reasonably distractable walking along, so it might have been inevitable that he bump into someone, but it was still a surprise when Protego went to take a step back the dark glass he was standing in front of and felt someone crash into him--with enough force that he realized, belatedly, that they must have hit him rather than the other way around, but Protego still stuck him arms out instinctively, as if that would do anything, and instead it through him further off balance and he ended up sprawling on the ground on his stomach, barely missing hitting his head on something in the dark, his breath leaving him in a painful whoosh.