Roland's arm darts out, ready to stab it again, but he doesn't need to - the spider's trying to turn back and forth seemingly at random, and its legs are starting to shake. He's able to dart around it, sticking close to the wall, and move toward where she is without much trouble. It's still important to act fast, but even so, Roland spares a moment to shove the hammer back into his waistband and wipe his hand over his jeans. The movements are a little clumsy, hurried; he glances at the palm and sees that it's broken into patches of red, except in a stripe where the hammer blocked the spider's spit.

Saliva that burns. Makes a sort of sense for a predator like that, if he thinks about it. He doesn't much care to.

He grips the screwdriver, begins to move forward - and the thing starts to teeter a little. "I think it is working," Roland says, stepping back past the doorway. "If that doesn't kill it shortly I'll try to step in while it's still distracted. But I don't think I'll have to."

With that, he looks down at her, taking his first careful look over her self-made weapon. "Fair work with those arrows," he says, sounding pleased. "I see they fly true."