Bell turned slowly and leaned against the bar a re-fill on her rum in one hand, Rook rasped from the rafters. The keen eye of the crow riveted to her target's movements. She spared a glance to the young man sitting at the bar with her..."Your demeanor screams thief anymore, and you'll have to gag it for fear of waking the dead." she threw her voice as she drank, keeping it soft enough to only reach him. She grinned into her glass, She wasn't interested in small-change like him. Not with so many other bigger targets in the room.<br/>The Target had his hand to his weapons and Bell kept herself well relaxed, her throwing knives were well loosened and ready to throw at the slightest movement. Her grin turned wicked, ah, How she had missed these tense moments, walking a razor's edge. Of such things was life made.