There's something about Itachi that was perhaps the greatest ability that all thieves and bandits should like to have. One thing that had saved him countless times during his hard life, one thing that allowed him to be proud of the multitude of scars that littered his body.
Itachi was, and always had been, and always will be, a notoriously light sleeper.
So, when Jaela slid from his grasp with a subtle rustling of fabric, he'd awoken quite quickly, mind more than alert as he listened intently. He heard her exit the tent...
And then he heard the exchange outside. Less than three words in, and he already had his bowie knife in hand, typically his last resort weapon yet one he always kept in easy reach. Deciding not to make his presence known as of yet, he bided his time, noting the girls placement by the sound of her voice.
He was confident he could make the shot. If he could bury a throwing star in a flying dragons eye, he could certainly hit this angry sounding woman who sat less than twenty feet away. And if not, the little beauty in his hand, the knife of his father, would always give him a second chance.
When the other demanded Jaela return to this 'citadel,' that's when Itachi decided to make his presence known.
"She ain' goin' anywhere, ya hear me?"
He brushed aside the canvas flap of the tent, holding that knife in a white knuckled grip. He stepped out, wearing nothing but his pants and a dangerous gleam in his eye. Over his tanned skin, his scars appeared almost like an intricately crafted spiders web, his tapestry of flesh glowing in the early sunlight.
With a movement almost too fast for most people to see, he launched that knife with a force strong enough to pierce plate. It flew, spiraling end over end, direct past that the white haired girls ear, burying itself in a tree some feet behind her.
"Tha's yer only warning. Next toss goes in the back o' yer head, an' I guarantee ya I won' miss. Now, wha' in th' holiest o' fucks are ya doin' in me camp. I'll give ya abou'....ten seconds. Startin' abou' eight seconds ago."
The bandits voice was low, dangerous, and absolutely full of venom. Despite the fact that he carried no weapon anymore, he was more than ready to follow through with his threat.
He could feel the power of the knife, pulling on his will, ready to return to his hand and rend anything in its path back to it.