I aimed right, but the air resistance made my arrow look like a feather swaying helplessly under its command, while my target grinned back at me. Abrupt in my decision, I'm not shooting anymore, regardless of what all things are expected of me. The audience are still watching but with an austere look, the delight all gone. Being watched doesn't bother me as much as being set up does. And their supra-additive effect could make me surrender to my temper. I have my own way of reacting to extremes. But right now, I'm still watching the feather dance as the wind keeps tickling it and gravity looks helpless. There's something else going on underneath and I have to postpone my temper show to switch to my detective form.
So yes, I'm studying you; someone was born out of me at some point because of something you said and everything else you hid.