"Yes," Leir agreed to basically everything Skandra said about Fenrir all in one go. "I've already decided how to get him out of his hole, too. And if he tosses another arrow my way, it had better hit something vital."
Being shot in the leg was embarrassing. Actually being shot at all bothered him. He'd rather the entire world sat down and declared his penis "insufficient"...than to have his story end with an arrow.
That's how wild pigs died.
But Leir was under no illusions; Fenrir had hit him in the leg intentionally. Men like that didn't miss. Leir knew because he was a man like that himself. That would be the art of it, getting Fenrir to engage in the right kind of fight.
"I know all about Guyther," Skandra said (well, more or less anyway. Leir found himself suddenly preoccupied with the very real chance that he'd be killed soon).
Aeotha looked straight at Skandra. "Yes, that's what I want to do. Do you know where he is?"
"For the record," as if a stenographer would wander in at any moment to find himself in a historian's wet dream, "I never cared much for Guyther."