[He looks terribly put-upon - not a very becoming expression on someone with such a square jaw - and defends his argument with such vehemence she can tell that he is asserting the truth. Or something he believes so strongly it might as well be.

A girl who got kidnapped resonates too strongly and she takes a deep breath, releasing the hammer of the gun and lowering it.

It remains at her side.]

Maeve. [Still mildly suspicious, she nods to him.] The picture, please. And perhaps you can explain your ability to cast fire from your hand, while you're at it.