Well, the woman was rightly miffed it seems.  The dryad was a tad shocked how good she was at this sort of obnoxious banter, and while dryads were good she was definitely something else.  She also saw the possible 'threat' from the glass 'prop,' but she was... strangely relaxed about it.  It was a possible risk to her physical body - it was not likely to be light after all - and yet she found herself instinctively relaxing from it, rather than getting worried or - dare she say - afraid.  How strange... perhaps this was not the first time she'd had cause for concern about a threat to herself.<br/><br/>But before anything could happen, she was... 'interrupted' by the Panzer-Arm Lady, an ork who by all definitions dwarfed her in size.  Ah, this must be the 'security' for the place... so she nodded her head, turned her back on the woman on-stage without a second thought given to her - she wasn't worth it after all - and let her clockwork right hand slide into the ork's Panzer-Arm, her touch strangely delicate despite the mechanical nature of the arm.  Again, clearly she had muscle-memory of using these things, quite well-adapted to them.<br/><br/>"Very well, please take me to... her, right?" she responded with a smile, a part of her ego rather inflated from turning the high-and-mighty dancer into a sputtering ball of anger (of course, that chocolate smell was interesting... not sure what caused it though, but it clearly was coming from her) "I hope an apology isn't expected;<em>she</em>was the one who picked the fight after all, I just finished it."