Alice was normally someone for whom the phrase "rabbit reflexes" wasn't just a metaphor, but even for her this woman moved with a frightening speed, leaving her quickly caught in her grip while she was dragged across the ground, before being hoisted up into the beautiful, terrifying Irish woman's face. The scream was bad, of course, but there was an extra weight to the whole thing, a terrifying sliver that lodged itself in her soul instinctively. She had seen this before: this wasn't just some rich degenerate: it was another scion.<br/><br/>Fuck. Best to get out soon.<br/><br/>She clutched an old bark scroll she had tucked in her belt and thrust it in the girl's face.<br/><br/>"IgotthisforyounowIjustneedmymoneyandI'llgoisthatacock?" She spat out her words in rapid fire as she often did when she was nervous, only to be distracted at the last second by the gargantuan *thing* swinging between her legs. What the hell?