Her primary goal had been accomplished, but what she was left with made her less than thrilled. There was too much attention on her, too many eyes studying her every movement. She should’ve known the risk when she tried to capture the primary assailant’s attention, but somehow the risk was judged minimal in light reciprocity.<i>Should’ve slipped out when I had the chance,</i>she reprimanded herself, cursing at the weakness of human emotion that still had power over her. She had to agree with the gambler with a sympathetic-looking smile. Still, she had only intended to distract the crazed man for the gambler to get another hook in. She didn’t think he would suddenly cast all his attention, and blame, on her.<i>You can’t judge an unhinged man</i>.<br/><br/>A smirk quirked at the side of her lip. She couldn’t help the musical chuckle that escaped. His accusations were just so incredulous to her. “<b>Is it my fault you can’t control yourself? That you need a gang to do what a single man should be able to do himself?</b>” she taunted, disbelief and mockery evident in her voice. Her voice was quieter than the rowdy shouts of his companions that cheered on their crazed friend that punctuated her sentences. “<b>What a sense of entitlement you have, to think you have a right over another.</b>” Human emotions were scarce in her and guilt hadn’t the faintest presence in her soul right now. In its place, in fact, was a sense of pride for fanning the flames of the chaos; that sense she kept well hidden under her facade.<br/><br/>When he dived for her recklessly, it was relatively easy for her to avoid his incoming lunge. She didn’t have many options. The brawling gambler’s companions were watching her, as was the bard who had stopped playing to mope by himself. Taking him like she took down the other man would give away her supernatural abilities to onlookers. She could grab the dagger at her waist and mercilessly stab him in the back, and continue stabbing him to vent all the pent up rage she had developed over the past few minutes. That wouldn’t be taken well by the crowd either, though.<i>I hate crowds</i>.<br/><br/>There wasn’t much room to sidestep around him because of the tavern’s decor —<i>Hm. </i>Her mocking smirk turned into a full smile as she quickly grabbed a wood chair nearby and threw all her strength into her downwards swing. Breaking it on his torso wasn’t her goal; it would probably just anger the bull more. Instead, she aimed for a smaller, but more effective target: his head. If all else failed, she hoped to at least convince one of this man’s buddies to release the gambler so he could jump back into the fight. This brawl was getting less and less worth her time by the second.