"Well love, there is no Mr..." then she stopped, mid-sentence, and listened far more keenly.<br/><br/>After the woman continued to explain the hit on her head, her face turned into a glowering mask of rage, and standing (launching the metal chair across the room to smash and bend into a twisted metal heap in the process) she slams her fist into the table.<br/><br/><"Mr. Inoue?!  That filthy son of a bitch!"> she shouts, this time in fluid Okinawan Japanese, no hint of English accent at all <"He just can't leave me alone, can he?!  That mage-hating motherfucker!  I'll fucking kill him myself!"><br/><br/>She then kicks a leg of the table, and snaps it off cleanly, but catches the table edge before it falls... though the grip she has seems to be bending the metal of the table too.  She shoots a look straight at Trish now, and letting go of the table - which is now standing upright without any physical support - she is practically growling as electricity begins to crackle, and the smell of ozone begins filling the air.<br/><br/>"Tell me who he brokered it through and where I can find him or I start with a<em>female circumcision</em>and work my way up!" she hissed, switching back to the perfect English accent "You help me get rid of this hit, and help me make my Humanis Policlub fuck-nut of a<em>father</em>little more than crispy flesh and pools of blood, and then and only<em>then</em>can I guarantee you're continued survival, you got that?!"