Dahlia paused for a moment longer, drizzle clinging to her dress and to her curly blonde hair. It was probably the maid coming in on her day off, she probably forgot something, she told herself when the dog's bark stopped, but something about it made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Dahlia let out a short exhale, stealing herself against - she wasn't sure what - then started towards the house. Dahlia had barely pushed the door open when, from the corner of her eye, she saw someone move. But it was too late; one arm yanked her to the side while a meaty hand clamped over her mouth. Dahlia gave a muffled yell and lashed out, but she wasn't a large woman, and Bartleby was very much a large man. Just once, lashing out, she managed to kick the oaf hard enough that his grasp momentarily loosened. Dahlia nearly broke away, but the intruder recovered quickly, yanking her back to him again. This time, though, his hand clasped around her throat, pinning her against his chess.
"Careful now, missy," he grunted, "wouldn't want to make me hurt you by mistake. Wouldn't nobody be happy with that."
With that, he released his grasp on Dahlia's throat, leaving her gasping for a moment. She twisted around to face the man, who still had a firm hold on her arm. In response to his entreaty, she spit at him. Dahlia was still too surprised to find words. Instead, she was eying up the next way she might lash out at him.
Bartleby, however, was onto her. "Ohhhhh no you don't. Ach, I didn't want t'do this, but yer givin' me little choice." And with that, Dahlia found herself hoisted up off her feet and slung over the strange, large man's shoulder. And now the man was marching her through her own house, as though she were the intruder! It wasn't long before they were in the library and Bartleby unceremoniously back onto her feet.
Dahlia backed quickly away from him, sputtering for a moment like a feral cat that had just been thrown around. That was when she noticed the two weren't alone. There, sitting in her library as though he'd built it himself, was a strange, green-haired man. Calm as he pleased. Dahlia's sharp grey eyes looked between the two, turning herself so her back faced neither. She had a small feeling of reassurance, though, when a wet nose pressed into her hand. Now standing beside his mistress, the wiry deerhound let out a low growl towards the two men. Dahlia spent another moment in silence, visibly composing herself. Then her jaw set, her posture straightened, and her eyes looked bright and defiant at the two men.
"Sorry," she started, voice set and in control.... -ish, "I think you have the wrong address. I didn't send out a casting call for an underbudget production of the Plebian Pirates***." She was silent for a beat, then said firmly, "Get out of my house."
((***You know, the well-known Connlaothian farce about reject pirates trying to make their way on land.))