Connor stopped a few feet back, wondering how best to attack the obstacle that stood between him and pelting his brother with the snowball. He took a step back and then moved sideways, as much as the wall would let him.
He snorted dismissively. "Right," he replied as he hesitated, waiting for some kind of answering attack to follow the truce offer. How often did those honestly happen between them anyway? Only when something else intervened, like the bottom of an air shaft giving way and landing them right in the middle of Russian mafia.
Deciding to take the shot, Connor quickly moved to the side and threw the snowball sideways.