The last words were barely out of Lara's mouth when she felt a far too casual grope of her bottom. As the mage rose to his feet and introduced himself, rage boiled up inside the Drow. As he finished his flourishing introduction she darted out her chair and held the razer edge of her scimitar against his throat. Unsurprisingly, no one in the tavern moved to assist the Elven caster, fearing Lara's wrath much more. There was a reason no one flirted with the Drow. "If you ever touch me with magic OR OTHERWISE, I will tear out your throat with my teeth." As she spoke the air around him chilled to a frosty temperature, an interesting side effect from her Druid training. Her emotions often manifested in physical ways like this.