Fable - Ask Killing in the name of...

[Lyssia D'avore]

Her eyes snapped open to the semi-darkness of predawn, the shadows deep and the places where the light touched so faint as to not be there. Sweat wreathed her form, making the thin linen shift she wore as night clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin and pull at her every time she tried to shift all the long night through.

She lay there, the wraiths of haunting dreams still playing out across the ceiling, indistinct and difficult to pin down. The sense of sorrow and loss weighed her soul down, as it always did in the mornings. The shriek of loss still echoed inside her skull.

It took a few minutes, but the young woman finally shifted with a groan, rolling over and kicking legs out from under the thin sheet, wiping her face on the covers to get the sweat free. The room was silent but for the sound of her thin matress creaking under her scant weight, that and the sounds of the city starting to stir itself from the sluggish torpor of the night. Without much thought, she stripped the sodden shift from her body with grunts of effort, and then tossed it onto the floor in a heap. Her eyes glowed faintly with an inner light as she blinked about the room, and then bent over the bedside table, breathing life into the lantern. The oil-slick feel of magic being used danced through the air for a moment before fading before the advancing light.

She turned from the lamp, and regarded the mirror above her beaten chest of drawers. The cheap thing, bubbled and only just good enough to cast her reflection, showed the young woman she had become. Lean, almost to the point of emaciation, with dark circles under her haunted eyes. Every square inch of flesh was perfect, though; pale and smooth, untouched by time. If she still did not look like a woman grown, well, there was a reason for that.

She stared at the bubbled glass at her own visage, and hated herself.

It was the morning routine.

----

Today was the day.

She exited the tenement that she lived in at the moment, closing the door behind her to join the average crowd moving through the streets. People, moving about in blissful ignorance of the dangers that lurked in the world. She knew it was childish to even think such, but she didn't really see most of the people scurrying along the streets as being proper, anyway. Commoners, of common lineage. That she had been cast into their midst did not change what she was, not what she really was within. These folk were simple, with simple desires in their lives. Easy to read, sometimes, even for a woman barely able to call herself such.

She stepped out into the flow. She was unremarkable, compared to the rest of the throng. A plain grey dress of linen and wool, lightly embroidered but not flattering of the frame she didn't have anyway. Her slender build suited her diminutive heigh quite well, and in a manner it was useful in that she was small enough to not grab the attention of most of the people scuttling about on their business. The ones that did, she marked mentally - possible cutpurses or other rogue and ne'er-do-wells. She had been on the streets for a few years, and had survived the lessons delivered by the harder side of the commoner's life.

How will this go? Her face was a mask of determination, unnoticed by herself. She was thinking to the meeting she had set up today. The unsavory elements of Alliria were elusive, and for good reason. She had some hope that she might be able to broker some kind of a deal with this particular worthy (or unworthy!), some exchange of information for a service rendered. She herself was no fighter, and she knew it, but she had managed to employ a couple of people who were fighters, and they could be of some use.

What is it you want? What, indeed. The question kept her awake at night, along with the haunting screams of people she had known and loved. In the same manner that, sometimes, she could feel the liquid heat, the life, pooling in her lap. Searing her flesh, her soul, and leaving her broken and weeping. Blessedly, the episode did not often occur in 'polite' company, and so she had seldom had to run off before the waterworks could breach the damn and make her look more of a childish fool than she already managed to do on her own.

What do you want? She turned down a street, eyes wary of those around her. Her escorts would meet her at the meetup point, although she was sure one of them would tail her to make sure nothing happened between her humble lodgings and there. I want revenge, she thought. Not for the hundredth or the millionth time, either. Flashing images, a night of fire and blood. She felt anger stir in her breast; it was an old companion, welcome and warming her soul even if sometimes she felt as though it was her soul that fed it. As if, one day, the flames of rage would consume it all, and she would be left a wailing banshee of rage without conscience or regard for another.

I want to bring those underhanded curs down, or to heel.

And what would she do to achieve that end? It was another thing that haunted her nights, filling her with nightmares that had nothing to do with the ones she had lost. How much of her soul would she feed to the flames to achieve that end? She was going to have dealing with a criminal, and she did not know what that said about her. Father would turn in his grave and Mother? Mother would disown her. Both would probably disown her for dealing with commoners, anyway, but she was alive and they weren't.

You had to do what you had to do, to survive. The taint of dealing with the common man was such a small detail when stacked against dealing with the criminal elements, or bringing about the death of members of her own family.

The quality of the city changed around her, subtly. The district she had been in had no formal name, but this one did. The Shallows were aptly named, the salt marshes and stagnant pools at the edge of the bays and inlets that Alliria straddled, the heart of its mercantile might. Here, the people were poorer, and more seedy. On the border with the Slums, it was a place rife with crime and debauchery. In other words, a place she had no business being. Blessedly, the place she was headed was not very far in; The Canted Stump held all the appearances of a seedy tavern and brothel rolled into one, but there was far more to this place than met the eyes. Many of the criminal gangs that ran throughout the city used such places as covert dens or bases of operations.

This was one such place.

Lyssia slowed her steps for a moment, regarding the place with an uneasy eye. The sound of raucous laughter drifted across the street and over the still water covered in pond scum, but she couldn't help noticing that several street toughs stood around the area, on the street or the corner. Watchers, and people to call upon should their be trouble of any kind.

She clenched her hands into fists involuntarily, and started forward. It felt like stepping off the ledge, waiting to either come in contact with the ground before the rope around her neck drew tight...

...or strangle herself, finally, through her own bad decisions.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

An odd sight amid the squalor of the Shallows to be sure. Some among the local roughnecks would be scanning and sizing up their mark with hungry eyes imagining the kind of money this child must come from.
The last thing one expects to see amid the poverty and filth of the Shallows is an audience of gutter trash children, those young unfortunates concerned only with survival, watching a cane carrying young boy in a sharp yet colorful suit with a silk top hat pushing down a mop of white hair perform illusions and feats of slight of hand before their very eyes! But the strangeness of the sight was also sufficient to keep the malevolent individuals at bay if only for now.

The children cheered as the sharp dressed boy turned a handful of stones into a flock of pigeons by dropping them in his hat.
He flicked the hat into the air and bowed with a flourish before standing and catching it on his head, that brought another round of applause.
"An now fer m'next act, I'll be need'n some help from ye munchkins! I need a volunteer, an I need ye ta think really hard about something or someone ye really want ta see more than anything in the world!"
Several children raised their hands and he would have them step up to join him.
Just as he asked the child squeezed her eyes shut and thought really hard about what she wanted.
Kiileet's face would ripple for the briefest moment as he took her shape and turned back to himself with the recent thoughts and memories of the little girl, his shapeshift was just a moment and none of the other bystanders caught it, but who knows?
With knowledge of what she wanted to see he flipped out his cape and held it out beside him like a bull fighter.
"Alrighty, ye can open yer eyes miss!"
And when she did he pulled his cape aside and there appeared a glowing image where there stood a young couple dressed in rags, they looked impoverished but they held each other and were smiling, they were happy.
The girls eyes filled with tears as she looked at her last good memory of her late parents.
"Mamma! Papa!"

Some other kids wanted to see their parents too, some acted tough and wanted to see lots and lots of gold instead.
But as the kids begged to see certain things he spied another girl wandering through the crowd... No, not wandering, that lass had a purpose in her step. And whenever he saw someone like that he became naturally curious.
"Alrighty, lads an lasses, that's be only a taste o what th'dancing wisp circus has ta offer! Don't miss th'show, don't miss th'games! I can't wait ta see ye there!"
With a high leaping backflip he exploded in a flash of smoke and a shower of roses which screaming children joyfully collected.

He appeared out of an alley on the opposite side of the street with a costume change. He now appeared as the same boy, but his clothes fit in more, a bit more ragged with a heavy coat and the only consistent item being his hat.
He grinned as he watched the bigger thugs examine where he vanished and trying to track down the children to see if he was one of them. But now he was following a very determined individual who was bravely about to go into a brothel. Her age was difficult to discern, his better senses telling him she's not all that she seems... Might as well make a good impression!

Before she could reach the door he reached out and opened it for her, taking off his hat to bow.
"Allow me lass! I would be honored ta escort ye in this fine establishment if ye'll let me! Not exactly a friendly place if ye catch my meaning." He made an adult impression with his child's voice, as if he were trying and failing to sound at least older than her... If she were a child... An impish grin seemed to crack the illusion, however.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Her thoughts spun like a whirling dervish.

There were a handful of criminal lords. as they were wont to liken themselves to the nobility and the better bred classes of people in society. Most of them had...unique names, in line with their trades. Chain-Gang Callis, Two Faced Eddie, and the like. A measure of pride among the criminal underground, a calling card, and something to strike fear into the rival gangs that did not have that notoriety behind their names. This particular establishment was held by none of the more notorious gangs that operated within the slums of Alliria. Lyssia, as much as it galled her to think of it, did not rate any dealings with much beyond street level thugs for the so-called great ones of the murderous underworld.

She hesitated in her march to the doors, only for a moment. Was this the path she really wanted to go down? Close on the heels was the deeper question: Did she have any choice?

You always have a choice, Sister. His haunting words echoed through her mind, ephemeral as the man himself had become. A ghost of a ghost. No path is unchanging. Every door that closes, another opens...

Her stride steadied.

She caught movement from either side, as the toughs that watched caught sight of her, sizing her up and dismissing her out of hand. Galling, that, but then she really wasn't much of a threat to anyone. At least, in and of herself. She reached out to push the door open, and stepped back suddenly as another stepped in front of her, opening the way.

She deliberately looked the boy up and down in a nearly disdainful manner. His clothing made him to be commoner with a peculiar taste in headgear. She raised an eyebrow at the hate. Something about it tickled a memory from a time not long gone, but whatever the memory was would not come free for all her attempts to pry it loose.

"Do you work for Hazzard?" she asked,. The tone was still cool, but it felt...off, as if it were forced.

She drew herself up at the words he used, eyes losing some of their distance and perceptibly cooling. "Lass?" The word was flat, if not hostile. If it was even possible, the young woman seemed to stretch for every inch of height - not an impressive feat, truth told - and raised her chin. She did not appear to be conscious of the act. "I happen to have business in this 'fine' establishment," she said stiffly, twisting the word 'fine' with the irony it deserved. She seemed to recall where she was, and her chin dropped a bit.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

The lass... girl... woman... lady? Whatever she was, on closer inspection she wasn't as young as she looked, but there was no telling whether she was considerably older, or maybe a few years older. Kiileet didn't find it strange since it was a character trait many children developed when they found themselves on their own and suddenly having to live in the world of grownups.

The shape Kiileet was in wasn't more than a couple inches taller than the girl, but it was still adorable that they were both trying to outdo each other in trying to seem older, even if it was completely a farce on his part as a shapeshifter.

"Do you work for Hazzard?"
"I happen to have business in this 'fine' establishment,"

The irony wasn't lost on him and he giggled mischievously before going on in his accented speech.
"Nay, miss. I work fer room an board mostly, "Hazzard" pay's not th'safest way ta be makin a livin'"
He grinned at his joke. He didn't know who "Hazzard" was, but he was curious so he decided to wing it and go along to see what game was afoot.
"Beggin yer pardon, miss. Sure, I work fer Hazzard! Told me ta keep an eye out fer lasses lookin ta bust some chops an ta make them feel at home!"
He offered his arm with a wink as he flipped his hat back on his head.
"Th'name's Liam Kindly. An as a man an a gentelermanly sort if ye like, I'd be honored to be escorting ye ta see th'good old hazardously named Mister Hazzard!"
His mannerisms were... "Extra"... to put it lightly, and that's just how he was. He drew extreme pleasure from bringing joy to others, especially to children or pretty girls, and whether this one was a child or not, she was a pretty girl and making her smile would simply make his day.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She looked at his arm as if it were a snake, coiled and ready to strike. "Lady Lyssia D'Avore," she said in a cold tone of voice that had very clearly shifted from neutrality toward hostility. "You may refer to me as Lady D'Avore, though."

In the back of her head, she had to wonder why she even tried that ploy. She was, in truth, a nobleborn Lady, but Alliria did not seem to hold much with it, and in any case, the only place she knew that would know the name of D'Avore would also know of its fall from grace, and the seizure of all its assets and holdings. She might as well be a common born cur herself, for all that it mattered in the eyes of the courts of her home.

Not if I have anything to say about it, she thought to herself grimly. For a moment, she had to struggle with her temper, to keep herself from lashing out. It was a narrow thing, but her good sense came out on top.

"This Hazzard," she began in a cold voice, "is a rapscallion at best and a hardened criminal at worst. If I didn't need connections..." she trailed off. She was unsure why she had admitted even that much to a stranger, friendly as he might be. She had as much admitted that she was willing to do business with cutthroats and hoodlums, which did not do the story of her noble lineage much credit.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

"Lady Lyssia D'Avore," she said in a cold tone of voice that had very clearly shifted from neutrality toward hostility. "You may refer to me as Lady D'Avore, though."

He beamed at her, "O'course! Naturally M'lady D'Avore! Allow yer humble servant apologize fer his rudeness!"

"This Hazzard," she began in a cold voice, "is a rapscallion at best and a hardened criminal at worst. If I didn't need connections..."

He energetically nodded his head in agreement and tapped the side of his nose.
"Gotcha! Mum's the word! Ye don have ta worry bout me flapp'en to no guards or nuthen."
He led her inside the shifty establishment whether she took his arm or not.
As they went inside several unfriendly eyes appraised them like prize steaks medium rare.
He met their stares with a jovial smile as he walked around as if he owned the place, like a professional street urchin.

He picked the biggest guy in the bar with a face full of dagger scars and his leg propped up on another stool.
He boldly kicked the stool out from under him, but before he could get angry he spoke up loud enough for others to hear.
"Oy ye lazy oaf! Hazzard's got imself a guest, hop to and let em know she's arrived!"

He leaned in towards her and whispered conspirationally.
"Although, if ye are looking fer connections, there's a circus just arrived an is sett'n up outside o town. I hear lots o powerful people like ta use circuses ta meet and suchlike."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She was ill at ease, although she did not show it. Or at least, she did not show much of it. She had been trained, after all, since early childhood how to comport herself as a member of the aristocracy, and she felt something bred in the bone made her better than the charlatans that surrounded her in this smoky, foul smelling abode of thieves.

Unkind eyes regarded her and her unwitting companion as she followed, each step careful and precise. She did not walk so much as glide, the manner of her clothing seeming to be unimportant in comparison to her bearing.

She flinched a little at the brash action of Liam. The man in question, picking himself up from the ground with anger-darkened features, looked Liam up and down, and then looked at the young lady behind him. he spit to one side, and turned to square himself directly in front of Liam.

"Don't rightly reckon 've 'eard of a bloke named 'azzard, runt," he said in a menacing tone of voice. he rolled his shoulders to a chorus of popping joints. "Don't reckon an'un going to 'ave 'eard of you soon, neither."

Chairs scraped back all around them, the sound of booted feet hurrying away from the pair. Lyssia braced herself for the madness that was about to descend on them, preparing to flee and toss dignity to the wind if it came to it. The scarred fellow took a step forward, balling up a fist and getting ready to scrap with Liam...and then stopped midstep.

A hand descended on Lyssia's shoulder, and she couldn't help a little squeak of surprise escaping her lips before she clamped down on the startlement. Taking half a second that seemed like an eternity, she composed herself and shook of the hand, which did not release its grip.

"Unhand me, you oaf," she said coldly, turning to face the owner of the offending appendage. And then any further words died on her tongue.

The Komodo grinned at her, an unpleasant thing to behold. Scales dulled by some foul sickness common to their kind gleamed faintly, and although the scent of decay wafted off of the towering individual, the eyes were surprisingly sharp. Too sharp for a Komodo, truth to tell.

"You lay no hands on the guests, lest you do not want any hands," the Komodo hissed in surprisingly articulate common. The thug stepped back quickly. "Get out of my house," the tall figure hissed, and the nameless fellow nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get out. Grey eyes darted to a pair of men across the room, catching them and nodding slowly. The pair of them kicked back from the wall they had been leaning on, and nonchalantly slipped out the door the scarred man had bolted out of.

"What do you want?" The tall figure had turned to Lyssia, who looked like a child in comparison. She had to crane her neck to look up unto cold, unblinking eyes. "You bring trouble here, I have a place to put you."

She looked to Liam, and then back up. It was difficult to maintain any dignity when she was a solid three feet or more shorter than the scaled menace in front of her. "I have business with Hazzard," she said, trying to add a measure of haughtiness that was just not there.

"So you pick a fight to get his attention?" He looked her up and down without much interest, and then at the urchin child with her as well. "Great way to get the Watch here. More trouble than you are worth," he said in a dismissive tone. He motioned with his head, and a couple more goons materialized from the room that was already quickly calming down and resuming business as usual. "Get out of my house," he said, shortly.

As one of the hoodlums laid hands on her, she shook him off to a disgruntled growl. "I did not cross this city to waste my time," she said coldly. "I am not going anywhere until I see Hazzard." She tried to twist away from the same assailant as before, but failed. Though human, he was more than a match for her, strength to strength.

The Komodo looked back at her, her cold features filled with defiance.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

"Don't rightly reckon 've 'eard of a bloke named 'azzard, runt," he said in a menacing tone of voice. he rolled his shoulders to a chorus of popping joints. "Don't reckon an'un going to 'ave 'eard of you soon, neither."

Liam pointedly ignored the scar faced bloke until he heard menacing popping behind him. He somewhat sheepishly turned around, but he knew exactly what he did, and one could argue that he even did it on purpose.
He braced for a punch that never landed, he slowly opened one eye and saw the intimidated look on the mans face. This of course made him puff himself up like some tough guy to bring such fear, but he quickly deflated when he realized a Komodo had joined them and was a terrifying creature to behold... From a human perspective.

"You lay no hands on the guests, lest you do not want any hands," the Komodo hissed in surprisingly articulate common. The thug stepped back quickly. "Get out of my house," the tall figure hissed, and the nameless fellow nearly tripped over himself in his haste to get out. Grey eyes darted to a pair of men across the room, catching them and nodding slowly. The pair of them kicked back from the wall they had been leaning on, and nonchalantly slipped out the door the scarred man had bolted out of.

"What do you want?" The tall figure had turned to Lyssia, who looked like a child in comparison. She had to crane her neck to look up unto cold, unblinking eyes. "You bring trouble here, I have a place to put you."

His first thought was that this Komodo was Hazzard himself, mostly because this was supposed to be where one finds a person called "Hazzard" and this creature just called this place his house. So at first he remained silent to let the girl carry out her business, having accomplished his mission... or so he thought.

"So you pick a fight to get his attention?" He looked her up and down without much interest, and then at the urchin child with her as well. "Great way to get the Watch here. More trouble than you are worth," he said in a dismissive tone. He motioned with his head, and a couple more goons materialized from the room that was already quickly calming down and resuming business as usual. "Get out of my house," he said, shortly.

As one of the hoodlums laid hands on her, she shook him off to a disgruntled growl. "I did not cross this city to waste my time," she said coldly. "I am not going anywhere until I see Hazzard." She tried to twist away from the same assailant as before, but failed. Though human, he was more than a match for her, strength to strength.

The Komodo looked back at her, her cold features filled with defiance.

As things quickly went south and the grunts began trying to escort them away he jumped between them and Lyssia with his arms outstretched flamboyantly and with a loud declaration.
"On th' contrarian m'scaley friend! What better way to get yer attention than ta show ya we mean business? Coulda brought down th' city watch? Not a bad tactic in my book ta show ya just how badly we wanna see mister Hazzard!"
He grinned up at the Komodo, there was a glow of mischief in his eyes as he tipped his top hat in acknowledgement of either Hazzard himself or a loyal Lieutenant before he planted both hands firmly on his hips.
A little illusion work, and spotlights suddenly shone down, singling out himself, Lyssia, the Komodo and each of the thugs currently trying to get rid of them, all eyes were on them and what they chose to do next.

His grin somehow got larger. "Ye see, Mister. The lady here has some favors ta ask, an if ye didn't take her seriously from the get-go mister Hazzard would likely not listen!"
He tapped his temple like he was a world class genius.
"See th' cunning plot? We're not just gonna turn around an let ye knock us off in an alley fer all the work we did ta get here!"
Even if everyone in the tavern was loyal to Hazzard, everyone will see the spotlights and what these thugs do next will be burned in the memories of all concerned.

But the showman was just getting started. His skills were in illusion, and thus his illusions were very powerful, even when making someone unseen or unnoticed like a simple slight of hand trick. Messing with minds and such was what he did best, fooling perceptions was a hobby.
So it was an image that approached the Komodo so boldly and stood between the thugs and Lyssia, and it was another subtle replacement of Lyssia that took her place as he gently took her by the hand and led her invisibly to stand in a corner with a good view of the room.
He whispered in her ear, "This be a safer way ta negoterate. Just talk like normal, I'll throw yer voice to yer mirror image out there. Fine an dandy?"

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"This is meaningless," she said through gritted teeth. She knew as well as he that if the proverbial excrement hit the windmill, simply using magic to hide would not really help much. She could not - or would not - leave this city without gathering the aid she needed to return to Mericet and reclaim her birthright. If she got on the bad side of some criminal scum right now, well, she could easily disappear.

"Bringing the watch down woulda simply meant a few more bodies floating in the bay," the Komodo hissed. "Try threats with summin that cares, runt." The lizard man crossed his arms in front of his chest. His eyes glazed over a moment, and then seemed to clear.

"Well, if it is Hazzard you want, then Hazzard you get." And without a second thought, the Komodo turned and faced Kileet and Lyssia both. It was as if the pall of magic in this place had slid off his mind. It was unsurprising, though; the magic used was about as subtle as a brick to the forehead. Such a display of power was difficult to hide...especially if you had mages present to make such a thing known. "Stop your magic, unless you want to get butchered here and now," he added. Around him, the others blinked, looking quite confused about what was going on. The spell was not entirely broken, and so the tableau that played out made little sense to them. The Komodo was gripping a talisman, now, an ancient finger bone that it was probably best not to speculate on the origin of.

Lyssia stood as tall as she could, and cast a withering sidelong look at the changeling.

 

[Kiileet Glassdancer]

"Bringing the watch down woulda simply meant a few more bodies floating in the bay," the Komodo hissed. "Try threats with summin that cares, runt."

Kiileet looked hurt, "Woah there! Naw nobody but ye's said anything bout threats! We'ze just talk'n right now aye?"
He held his hat to his heart with a sincere look of absolute sorrow.
"Th point's that we got yer attention an that o Mister Hazzard, and I ain't seen any Hazzard yet but th way I sees it we're half way to success! Ain't nobody's been threatened so far but us!"
He put up his hands quickly, "Not that we're complaining!"

"Well, if it is Hazzard you want, then Hazzard you get." And without a second thought, the Komodo turned and faced Kileet and Lyssia both. It was as if the pall of magic in this place had slid off his mind. It was unsurprising, though; the magic used was about as subtle as a brick to the forehead. Such a display of power was difficult to hide...especially if you had mages present to make such a thing known. "Stop your magic, unless you want to get butchered here and now,"

He couldn't tell what kind of magic that was or what it did, but evidently he knew to some degree that he had used some magic, a credit to him since his illusions were extremely difficult to discern from reality.
He would have just kept their hiding spot but it seemed like the girl was adamant about going face to face with these brutes, there was no mistranslating the withering scowl of a woman... Or young lady... or whatever...
So somewhat sheepishly he dispelled his illusions, the two mirror images in the middle of the room blew away in a flurry of rose petals that blew around the room and then swirled around them. If she wanted to be noticed again, he would fulfill her wish, now every spotlight shone on them.

Kiileet had taken the Komodo's command seriously and stopped all of his magic, which didn't include his shape since that was a racial ability and not quite magic, but he was no longer dressed as an urchin with a fancy hat, he was dressed as a circus ringmaster with a fancy hat.
He put his hands on his hips and gave a crooked smirk and a sideways look at Lyssia.
"Alright, stage is set, spot lights are on, ye know yer lines right? this is what ye wanted an now all eyes are on ye lil' miss. Put on th show ye came here to put on!"
But still he stood at the ready, incase anyone tried anything he was prepared with an escape rout to get them out in five seconds flat.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"I didn't come to put on a show," she hissed under her breath to the shapeshifter, and then turned her eyes to the komodo in front of her. Him only; she had no time or use for the riff-raff that had gathered around, or any of the others that were even now sizing up the miscreants that had brought trouble into their little home.

"Not a good way t'get someone's attention," the lizard man replied. "Good way to get dead, though."

"Do not dismiss me," the red-headed Sidhe said in a low and dangerous voice. She had taken a step forward, and had eyes only for the komodo. "I came here to do business, not bandy about threats and try to impress the room with how macho I am. It is money I am coming about, and the making thereof." Her head snapped to one side and transfixed one of the thugs who was even now approaching with a withering stare. "Do not touch me again," she warned and drew herself up.

The nameless man snorted, and made a gesture to either side. Rough hands took her by the arm, and she tried to shake them off without any effect. Thugs descended on the changeling as well. "If you want to talk, fine. But not out here." He was already turning away as he spoke, heading for the back of the establishment. A door led deeper into the building. As the tall figure moved forward, others got out of his way quickly.

"Fine," she said. As if she had a choice. She again tried to shake herself free, and the man who'd had the gall to lay his hands on her released her so that she stumbled a step. He then shoved her forward rather rudely, muttering under his breath some rather unflattering things.