The arrow thunked harmlessly into Damon's chest. Damon didn't flinch, but the glare he turned on Riven could have peeled paint off a fortress wall.
The old alchemist, for his part, didn't even seem to notice. He was crouched by a crack in the cave wall, cooing softly to a glowing centipede and feeding it something that looked disturbingly like a human molar.
"Do you have a death wish?" Damon hissed, yanking the bow from his arm and tossing it back at Riven's feet. "Just use something else to fight, okay?" How could someone be so bad at this? Fuck, this bastard better be good at some other weapon.
He curiously observed Riven once again, standing in front of the old guy, just to make sure he doesn't end up dead.
Riven rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and gave a thumbs-up. "Right. No more arrows near the crazy guy. Got it, boss."
Damon didn't respond. He just stared.
