He had a pair of arrow wounds now, this one striking him in the chest, and Remy cried out in pain, hand falling from the wall, and he had only a fraction of a second to throw himself out of the way before it exploded, bringing a good section of the ceiling down along with it.
Groaning, breath strained now, Remy clutched at the bit of arrow that was sticking out and snapped off what he could, body recoiling with each breath he took.
"Merde," he mumbled with a grimace, stumbling through the destruction, looking for the damned shooter and fumbling for the tesseract within his jacket pocket.