A quick study and a sniff to the arrow’s tip don’t yield much insight beyond the coppery stink of bodily harm. This latest glance to Holden is purely to gauge whether or not the danger of being clocked has fully passed. It seems that it has.

Outside is the answer, agreed with a nod.

“I can take him,” isn’t that strange of an offer to make, under the circumstances. He leans to stand, placing the arrow neatly aside on a neighboring table as he goes. Derrica should rest.

His turn back to them is well-angled to receive argument.