[Her Highness raises an eyebrow in return as they slide a substantial piece of lumber across the door, and the way is blocked. For half a second Maeve startles again, suddenly reminded of a heavy, booted foot kicking the hinges off. Striding in on fading sunlight and dust as half a prayer caught in her throat.
Then she is here again, with the man who can apparently throw fire from his fingertips, as safe as houses for the circumstance.
Deftly, Maeve cocks the hand cannon and takes aim at his ruggedly handsome face.]
Why don't you start by telling me who the Hell you are.
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Then she is here again, with the man who can apparently throw fire from his fingertips, as safe as houses for the circumstance.
Deftly, Maeve cocks the hand cannon and takes aim at his ruggedly handsome face.]
Why don't you start by telling me who the Hell you are.