Having heard the unfamiliar footsteps approach, Courfeyrac has taken cover in the bushes, watching closely as Firo examines the partially constructed snow-fort. He doesn't recognize Firo, mistaking him for a boy, catching the glint of the blade of his knife in the midday sun. Mentally, he calculates whether or not he could defend himself, if it came down to it. Ultimately he decides he doesn't especially care. Such is the nature of the game.

"This is the barricade," he says as he emerges from his hiding spot. His hands are empty. He relies solely on his bravado to save the day now. "And I am it's keeper. Now, who are you and how might I help you today?"