"Give me a bow that pulls itself, and I fight Hell with an arm tied behind my back."  Feign  smiles as he quotes some obscure story, He had never dreamed it would apply to him.  His brethren may not see death in quite the same light as Baz ans his Slayers, but for some reason, the concept of honorable death seems to make perfect sense at this moment.  Probably a result of the concussion from the backfiring gun.<br/><br/>His wounded and tired left arm was still more than steady enough to load one of the fresh magazines into the pistol.  His aim is steady, but unfocused, ready to instantly snap to any target that appears in the doorway.  His skill with a firearm is not instinctual as it is with a bow, but it should still be suffecient for such short distances.<br/><br/>He moves with the rest of the group following by memory and sound while keeping his aim dead locked on the doorway.