Sarah parted from Merrick as their dance ended, and left to scour the tavern for the third part of their evening's trio. "Now-- where is that man and my drink?" she muttered. Mordrey had been given the order and while she had half-expected him to drink it with how long she took on the dance floor, he still owed her at least one drink.
At the same time, by the bar, a crash came loudly.
“Whoa -- whoa! Come on, come on comeoncomeon -- let’s not be hasty, friend!”
Mordrey’s voice sailed in high pitch through the air, followed by another crash.
Someone was throwing chairs at him.
“I didn’t know! I didn’t know, friend! -- You know, you should really be talking to her for not wearing her wedding ri -- “
There was no mistaking where the illusionist was at now, as more than half of the bar had turned their attention towards the commotion.
Sighing, Sarah watched the scene unfold. Though after one more chair went sailing towards Mordrey she realized one very important thing.
Bringing her fingers to her mouth she whistled loudly above the commotion. "OI!" The attention turned to the trouper as she sauntered her way up to the offending party, ruby red lips down-turned into a scowl. "Ya can't be fuckin' beatin' on him," she told him. "I need him for m'show."
Then, without any real warning that it was coming, or that the pretty woman in the heels was highly trained with her muscles, a nasty right hook went for the man's face. The man stumbled and dropped as her fist made contact. "Maybe get the gal a bigger ring and she'll wear it next time."
As the man crumbled to the ground, the already rowdy patrons of the bar got even more boisterous-- and violent. The bar had erupted into a full on brawl, to which the poor bard in the corner had begun playing an all too humorous reel upon their fiddle to accompany it.
Merrick came in not a moment too soon, making one person think twice about retaliating against Sarah just by the sheer size of the man that stood beside her. "Uh, bobbin, m'thinkin' best we'bgoin'."
"I think ol' Merry is right. Let's go while we still have our bits and bobs." While the trio were focused on one another and the idea of leaving, they had made the mistake of keeping themselves distracted.
A chair sailed seemingly out of nowhere, a loud 'crack' heard as the wood collided with Mordrey, sending the man sprawling to the floor with a dramatic groan.
"Oh, that is IT!" Sarah said, taking one step, then two, stomping towards the assailant. Right up until one of Merrick's arms hooked around her stomach and held her back. "Let's b'goin', bobbin," he told her.
"No! M'goin' t'make him pay fer tha-- MERRICK!" Sarah protested as the foreman hefted her up over his shoulder with a muttered apology. Just before he caught ahold of Mordrey and dragged him out by his shoulder.
Sarah threw herself onto the couch of their shared apartment in Boralus, bringing an arm to stretch above herself, against the armrest. “I think it’s safe to say we never mention this to Graham.”
“I couldn’t agree more with you, dame,” Mordrey piped up as he tried to fix the ruffle of his collar.
“--What aren’t we telling me?” Graham asked, coming out from his room, glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked between the three of them like a disappointed parent.
“Graham!” Sarah exclaimed, quickly righting herself to sit upright. “You’re home early!”
