"That's rude," Blackwell commented, watching the stranger go right for his knife.  If he'd gone any further than that, she felt confident she could've laid him out on the festival grounds without much trouble, but she was happy it hadn't come to that.  She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.  "Keep in its sheathe, alright?  Nobody wants to see that."<br/><br/>"So, do you have a name?"  She turned her attention back to the girl, though she kept her hand firmly on the man's shoulder, pressing maybe enough to be a little bit uncomfortable.  She didn't want to push him away outright, anyway -- she'd let him make the call to wander off on his own time.  He'd get the picture eventually.<br/><br/>If she had ever met the girl before, Blackwell didn't recognize her -- or didn't remember the occasion, anyway.  Seems like an unlikely face to forget, though -- she was cute!  Her gaze may have traveled a bit, enjoying the view of the black-haired girl from up close, and she didn't make much effort to hide it.