[Years of hero work have honed Barnaby's instincts to danger, even from what might look like harmless civilians. So when he sees the sticks clatter to the ground he looks over. Then he moves as if in a blur to leap away from the arrow's trajectory, landing further along the canal street in a crouch. His eyes and outline are a glowing, bright blue, giving him the speed to dodge even a bullet, should one be shot at him in the next five minutes.
His sight is improved too, and even from the further distance he's put between them, he can see that unmistakably familiar face, even if her body is different here. He can also see the arrow, meant for him, now embedded in the door of the shop.
His heart hammers in his chest as he weighs his options. Even if he defends himself, a stray arrow could get others hurt. At the same time, he wants to try to talk to her, now that they're no longer under the watchful gaze of the Regent, and this might be his only chance.
So he gets slowly to his feet, hands raised as a gesture of surrender.]
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His sight is improved too, and even from the further distance he's put between them, he can see that unmistakably familiar face, even if her body is different here. He can also see the arrow, meant for him, now embedded in the door of the shop.
His heart hammers in his chest as he weighs his options. Even if he defends himself, a stray arrow could get others hurt. At the same time, he wants to try to talk to her, now that they're no longer under the watchful gaze of the Regent, and this might be his only chance.
So he gets slowly to his feet, hands raised as a gesture of surrender.]