He probably thought she was a total drunken idiot or at least a clumsy airhead, which suited her purposes just fine. She willed some shred of empathy to seep into her sharp yellow eyes, as she patted his sopping shirt with the sash she tied around her belt. Despite the anger in his tone, however, she merely shook her head and frowned as if taken aback by his chastising.
"I said I was sorry," she said, defensively. As much of a prick as everyone else, she thought amusingly. Her eyes flicked toward the vest, judging how fast she could snatch it from his hands before he got those fingers around her neck. She'd like to live another day, at least, and Old Rose Harbor tended to house the less than desirable members of Anaxis society.
"I don't have much left in my tankard, ye chen. It went all over yer shirt, remember?" She shook the tankard for emphasize but shoved it in his hands anyway. "In the meantime though," she paused as she watched him momentarily distracted by his wet, ale-permeated shirt, "I think I'll just take this for the road, toodles."
She waggled her fingers in a wave and her hand struck like a snake on its prey, wrenching the vest from the man's grip in one swift movement. She was down the crowded road in a matter of seconds, pushing past revelers and drunken bystanders as she willed the mona to listen to her words and the gesture of her movements, sending a gust of wind into a tent kiosk that promptly toppled over behind her, leading to shouts and flying curse words.
The witch threw back her head and laughed into the evening breeze, heading toward the harbor pier as the lights danced in the lamps and illuminated everything in a soft orange glow. Music played in the distance as dancers in masks filled the streets. Need to get up, she mused, eyeing the rooftops. But in her own negligence, she hadn't noticed the hand that wrapped around her arm and pulled her into a sudden stop.
"Oi!" She whirled, only to be facing a hulking man with an ugly scar splitting his cheek down to his jaw. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed in realization. "Ah, Sweet Dog. Should've known you wouldn't be able to fuckin' relax on a holiday. Out for more bootlickin'?"
A dark chuckle came from his lips at her remark. "I think you know what I want, little bird." The human's grip on her arm tightened, and she grit her teeth, resisting a roll of her eyes.
"Can't it wait a clockin' day, kov? I'm a little busy," she glanced over her shoulder, down the packed street, though for now, she couldn't see where her victim of thieving had gone.
"Busy, eh? Your hands gettin' antsy again?" He seemed to have noticed what she was holding, and he yanked it from her, lifting the wet vest up for inspection. "Why is this covered in ale?"
"Give it back Sweet Dog, now," she growled.
"Yunno what? I don't think so. You've got some debts to pay girl, consider this a start." Kestrel had to roll her eyes then as Sweet Dog jerked her through the crowd, toward the Rattler's Den, a hole in the wall bar known as the refuge of the Leashers.