Fionarro watches as three men grab a child and quickly haul him to a shaded area, labeling him "Pick Pocket." as they do so. The youthful Belle begins walking over to the chaotic scene before he see's an object pulled from one mans pocket. It gleams brightly in the morning sun and it only takes Fionarro a moment to realize that it is indeed a pocket knife. Anger surges through his veins, "To a child?" he whisper to himself as his walk turns to a sprint. As the Brit nears closer and raises his arm to show the crowd of people doing nothing what he does to "Pick Pockets." Fionarro grips his forearm tightly. "Im going to ask that you put that away now ad stop threatening this child immediately before I show you what I do to the grown who abuse children." He says in a cold tone. He knew he was bluffing for the most part, the majority of his life was spent in a Hotel room in Paris, not fighting on the streets like his father, but he was sure he could find some way to use his power if needed. The man nods and thus Fionarro releases his grip before, with an angered yell and fats movement of the Brits arm, Fionarro feels a searing pain on the right side of his stomach. Looking down, he sees wine colored blood begin to rapidly stain his White Chemise as the man he had grabbed.. had now slashed a wound in his side roughly lengthen around 3-4 inches. Not allowing himself to break do to the pain just yet, Fionarro lashed out and grabs the collar of the mans coat. Before the Brit can respond he is engulfed in flame. His two companions are shocked by their comrade now screaming and rolling about the grass so much so that they release their grips upon the young lads arms. Wasting no time Fionarro grabs the young mans wrist and takes off running as fast as he can in order to put as much distance as possible before he can no longer endure the pain. "Run with me son!" he yells before he grabs his top hat and, with the boy still in hi grip, takes off toward them roe populated area. "Wait!" a woman yells as she watches the grass catch flame from the shed articles of flaming clothing once belonging to the now angered and slightly burned British man for they now began to light the grass a blaze, "What about the fire!" Fionarro can only shout his reply to her as he continues to run.. no time to stop, "There is this lovely resource that was discovered called water! That should do the trick dear!"