[Because most of the people she has faced or trained with directly are about his height, give or take, and it was actually aimed closer to his neck or collarbone. He probably doesn't care. Crowe's scowl grows a brief sneer before hardening into stony appraisal, while the weeds near her feet begin to turn sooty and smell of burning. The wall nearest also picks up some deeper scorch marks at its base.

He looks sorry enough. Surprised enough.]

I didn't expect you to be around this corner. [No word yet on whether this is better or worse than her expectations.] I've already been shot once.

[Twice. Crowe flinches.]

It's not happening again if I can head it off.

[For all they are harmless little darts and some garish paint...that's not the point. That isn't the point at all and she grinds one heel into new ashes.]