Snow White had spent a long time learning how to be a jerk, taught by perhaps the best in the kingdom -- his mother. But he wasn't about to say that, of course.

In fact, he was genuinely considering Rinoa's argument. What if someone did want him here? He didn't know why anyone would want this lady, but he knew why people would want him. He'd been contracted before, trapped in a book, and now? Now? This was some bullshit.

As the fire faded from Rinoa, it grew in Snow. His own jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists, and his look became distant. Had the Grimm brothers somehow done this? Was someone trying to use him again? Snow wasn't convinced that any of these pitiful peons were truly aware of what was going on, but someone -- somewhere -- was. And he was going to find them.

... The loud wench could help, too, he supposed.

"If you're right... when I find the one responsible, theirs will be the first heart I eat on this world," he growled between grit teeth.