If Amsar was, even for a moment, frightened it did not show on her face.<br/><br/>She looked serene, save that her muscles were tense and poised. Her eyes had the fire of a defiant predator. She waited patiently, watching the boy's every movement and gesture. And when the moment was right, she struck like a viper.<br/><br/>When the boy fumbled she didn't hesitate in her movements. With one hand she grabbed the gun and brought her left leg behind the boys legs, and pulled it back roughly, taking the young thief off his feet and planting him squarely on the brick wall. She let out a low growl, and put one manicured hand on his chest to keep him in place.<br/><br/>"I would have you're tongue, but I think I was wrong," she began, her voice husky with spite. She held her whip taut, ready to lash the boy if he wasn't going to cooperate, "those purses are worth more than your tongue. I'll take them instead."