<span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(44, 130, 201)">“Tell me about it.”</span>Sympathizing with the barman’s protestation regarding profit, Nemera lets out a little sigh as the grinder twists, churning up a handful of pepper. Casting sidelong glances at the progress of the table situation, the thief grinds as much as she dares before it degrades further.<br/><br/>Interesting development on the next table over, the other woman … was she some sort of tiefling? She looked elven, but the color was off. Not drow, not dark enough. Were half-drow a thing? Nem wasn’t exactly an anthropologist. Or elf-o-poligist. So it didn’t really matter. What was more intriguing was she seemed to be casting some sort of invisibility spell, despite using a blade earlier. And that was bothering the caster … and the bigger half-orc too.<br/><br/>Nem calmly walks up behind the caster, between him and the group of disgusting little dwarves crowding towards Clara’s nethers. Casually, her hand flicks out, tossing the pepper at the cluster of greedy dwarven eyes. After this, a flash of boot swishes upwards, taking advantage of the caster’s distraction to kick up between his legs from behind. Hard.<br/><br/>She doesn't bother taunting. In fact, ideally, once her foot is back down she can scamper to the side so that the caster doesn't even know who the strike came from. If she gets really lucky, the dwarves will be too busy with the pepper to notice her either. She wasn't betting on getting them all though. But dwarves are slow, and Nemera is not, so any aggression from the little group of thugs can hopefully be avoided by retreating ... and hopping up on the tables if necessary. Tables made for a pretty good natural defense against shortlings.