The redhead tried to keep the flash of anger out of her eyes and simply straighten up, holding an arrogant poise even as she made a modest gesture of respect.  Her outfit that day consisted of a form fitted black top and leggings with a pleated skirt—not quite knee length—and healed calf high boots.  She wore an array of golden jewelry with diamonds, rubies, and emeralds—some Tech infused, some not.  They marked her as a target for robbery, but perhaps to rich or important to rob casually.<br/><br/>A centuari nobleman, of course, was both of those things—squared!<br/><br/>Without lowering her eyes, the redhead gave a polite curtsy—perhaps implying more station than she arguably possessed by not showing more deference.  “I must regrettably disappoint you, m'lord.  This gladiator has proved invaluable to me a thousand times over.  I couldn't bear to part with her.”<br/><br/>*   *   *<br/><br/>Firell gave a startled yelp as she was jerked into the alley.  The big beefy hand swallowed her cry.  Trained by Drazi and Rangers, she bit at the hand covering her mouth while twisting to face the man who'd grabbed, her.  She tried to drop out of the hold, meaning to strike at the man beneath where most humanoid rib cages ended before leaping back and landing in a fighting stance.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">17 to oppose the grapple.  <br/></div></div>