Itzair looks at the hand and shakes it. "Well,<strong>nice to feel welcome!</strong>" raising her voice so Emily could hear. "I'm Itzair. So, you the one I'm taking out and about? Look a bit fresh, so one bit of warning, not everyone is always as nice and sweet as me. It's hard being so misunderstood as an artist..."<br/><br/>Emily comes out, "Nice and sweet and misunderstood my ass. You beat people down for money two or three nights a week, sing and play punk with parties another three. And who knows what the hell you are up to on the seventh day."<br/><br/>Itzair shrugs, "Well, a good artist needs multiple forms of expression. One of mine happens to using blood and hand to hand combat as my medium. Can you blame me for doing something I love and am good at? Trust me, Glow, you are in the best of hands with me. Anyone even looks at you slightly strange, I'll hit them for you." She's probably kidding about that, anyone who knows her would say. Probably.