spam;

[When he sees the arrowhead sitting in her palm, he can't help the way his own hand recoils back from it a little or the way he instinctively checks his pocket with the other hand at the same time, feeling for his own item, another arrowhead. Before she even speaks, his expression is drawing down into something that isn't exactly shock because it almost doesn't even surprise him at this point. He stares at the arrowhead, the smell of blood filling his nose, and then glances back at the words on the wall and when she says that, his eyes shift to gold.]

He can try all he wants, it's not gonna happen. We'll stop him.