[Open by request, please PM! <3]
Her gloved fingers tapped impatiently against the table as her eyes scanned the tavern warily. Della huffed out a breath and took another sip of her drink, wrinkled her nose at the taste once again, and pushed it away from herself.
For good this time, she thought, though she knew she was probably kidding herself. She'd been through two mugs already waiting for her contact, and she was finally starting to feel the drinks' effects. Rancid the ale may have been, but it was certainly strong.
Gods, how late was this guy gonna be? She'd been paid for a meeting, so she'd stick it out, but with every passing minute she mentally hiked up her price for the job- regardless of what it turned out to be. A serving girl passed back her table and she shrank a little further into her hooded cloak, making sure the folds wrappped around her completely. Tall boots and long gloves helped to hide her...oddities from prying eyes, but if she wasn't careful she knew she tended to draw more attention than she would have liked.
She was pulled from her brooding thoughts by a small commotion a few tables away. Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed as she watched three rather intoxicated men grab the girl who had just passed her by the arm and try to urge her into a seat at their table. She couldn't quite hear what was said over the commotion of the tavern, but it was clear the young woman wanted nothing to do with them, jerking her arm away and attempting to be on her way.
Another of the men grabbed her around the waist. Della jerked her eyes away. It was fine- this was Zantaric, she highly doubted the girl couldn't take care of herself. Still, she found her attention flicking back to the table every few minutes. She even noticed the man behind the bar- who she assumed owned the establishment- glancing over with a small frown.
So this wasn't exactly normal. Maybe the girl usually made quick work of such advances. But it was clear her employer had not real invested interest in helping her either.
Finally the words reached her ears as the girl raised her voice. "I said let go you swine-fu-!"
A sharp crack resounded and Della was on her feet. A few people glanced over as the server reeled from the slap, stunned, and was pulled onto one of the men's laps, but no one moved.
"Who's gonna make me, lass?" the man growled as he tightened his grip on her. Della was in earshot now, stalking to stand beside the table.
"I believe that'd be me," she growled. Her hand snapped out and hauled the girl to her feet, putting the smaller body behind her as the drunken louts blinked at her, confused. "Get outta here," she hissed, and without a word the young woman hustled back to the bar.
One of the men- apparently the most vocal- stood and growled back at her, "Who the fuck do ya think ya are? This was a private matter."
No point in attempting to talk this through, at least not that she could see. With an internal sigh, Della cocked her arm back and delivered a solid left hook to his jaw. The man reeled and his friends jumped to their feet, shouting. One dove to tackle her and she sidestepped, but he clipped her shoulder and threw off her balance.
Lightning crackled at her fingertips and she thrust her hand into the third man's chest, making him shriek and stagger back. The first man took advantage of her distraction to punch her hard in the gut. She was thrown back a few paces, knocking a table over and nearly ending up in another patron's lap.
"Sorry," she muttered as her hood fell back, catching for a moment on her horns, and leaped back into the fray.
