His shoulders jump slightly as the door burst open, but when he turned he was the definition of calm. In the doorway stood the Warden and three other presumable nobodies. Arl Howe gave them a smirk and folded his hands behind his back, letting them know just how utterly unimpressed he was at their presence. "Well, look here. Bryce Cousland's little spitfire…"
She lifted her bow in a flurry of anger and haste, armed already with a smoldering arrow, and he paused in his speech. Not because he was threatened; not because he was frightened. Because he was amused, and it showed in his fading smile. "You've resorted to a coward's bow and arrow, have you?" he asked, following it with a short-syllabled laugh. "Your mother had the same bow, and it aided her just as well."
Brief moments passed and he faltered where she did not, his self-satisfied expression melting into a sneer. "You're not going to shoot me," he began again. "There's no glory in it, after all, and your heroics are no better than those of us you claim corrupt. Your father-"
