Few could write, let alone translate, the old language. Even those that could were comparable to a child's understanding of the language at best. Such was the fate of a dying language of an already dead and fading dynasty. Oleander knew very well that her talent in this study was all that kept Darcy from fleecing her. 

Mostly. 

He needed someone like her who could reliably translate the old runes, either from rubbings or in the field. Rather, he tried to take advantage of it once he realized she had this talent. A troublesome inconvenience for her at the best of times, and a deadly annoyance so far at the worst.

As she neatly stacked the sketches, passing them back over, the men at the table behind Darcy caught her attention. Not for their size, or any glimmer of a weapon hanging out of their jackets. Many of the patrons had some part of their weapons visible already. It was, instead, the fact that they were familiar.

Oleander was quick to turn her eyes downward, pulling her bag onto her lap under her cloak. Any eye contact or sudden movements would give away that she was catching onto his scheme this time. She needed to finish this transaction quickly, and wasted no time pulling the coin pouch from her bag she had been rummaging for before. 

“So, my dear, did that sample satisfy you?” Darcy leaned against the table, resting his chin on his folded hands with a smirk at her. He wasn’t taking her eyes off her now, and she couldn’t avoid eye contact with him any longer.

Making a curt nod she tapped the steel-toed tips of her ankle boots against the cobblestone floor. It was a careful rhythm of four beats, subtle in their purpose, as she closed her eyes to focus on their sound in those brief moments. 

She couldn’t afford a mistake, not with this spell in such close quarters. Magic was the one advantage she had over him, and she had already gone to great lengths to hide that fact. It was a risk, plain and simple.

“It does. It does...” She broke the silence she had been lingering on, looking back up at him with some annoyance. The spell she had just cast was just a quick survey one that searched the radius around her for threats. And reveal threats it did.

Out of the fifteen other patrons she could see in those fleeting moments scattered around the tavern, nine of them had the true nature of their intent revealed. Nine more than she wanted to deal with tonight. 

Five on the main floor and four on the second floor balcony overlooking their table. All in positions between her and any of the exits. It wasn’t a wonder why that man was acting so smug now to her.

“Then, Miss Lynch, if you please…” Darcy gestured to her lap before starting to slide the dossier across the table to her. While doing this he moved from his seat across from her to take the stool right of her, tapping her knee with his hand under the cover of the table.

Again she had to bite back her rage, now mixing with disgust as he didn’t stop at her knee. He pushed his luck as he moved his hand up her leg, stroking the outside of her thigh. He wasn’t even trying to go for the payment, instead moving his hand along her lap before trying to push his fingers between her thighs near her crotch.

She didn't let him get much further than that, swallowing back her nauseousness as her heart began to race from her growing anxiety. The whole situation was getting out of control, and all she could do was gently swat his hand out of her lap. It was hard to keep her fear from showing, especially as she felt his breath against her cheek as he let out a laugh.

“Don’t be so prickly now, my dear.” He moved his hand back onto her lap, squeezing her thigh.

Every time she tried to open her mouth, she felt like she was going to puke. Her voice was trapped in her throat as the panic set in. There was only so much of this she could put up with, and she wasn't willing to show any more fear to him than she had already.

It's just a twisted show of dominance. He does this to feel big. He's just pitiful.

Oleander repeated the mantra in her head, slowly regaining her composure as he leaned against her more. Unlike her, he was getting caught up in the moment he was creating. He left with an opening in his hubris, leaving that dossier on the table in front of her; unguarded and ripe for the taking.

And take it she did.

Her grip was a little unsteady as she shoved it into her bag with one hand, caught having to use the other to continually push away his defiling advances on her lap. An infuriating challenge that finally pushed her to snap at him.

If she could have waited any longer she would have, happy with a chance to spill his pint. However, she didn’t want to give him any more time to touch her with that wandering hand of his. All she wanted now was to get the hell out of here.

Pulling his hand from her lap, she moved to stand up while still gripping her coin pouch, “You’re welcome to party on your own, but I need to get going.”

“Why such a rush, my dear? Not like you really need to be anywhere else.” Darcy grabbed her wrist before she could take even one step away from him, trying to pull her back down to her seat. Despite that smug grin on his face, his tone stood out as one of authoritative warning. 

Oleander wasn’t having any of it, refusing to be trapped any longer, and swung the heavy coin pouch at his face. She didn’t hold back an ounce of her strength, causing the worn fabric to split almost instantly as he let go of her wrist. Gold and silver coins exploded from the seams, in a glimmering cascade that looked almost beautiful.

Between the coins flew droplets of spit and blood as Darcy reeled from the blow, falling from his seat to the floor in the cacophony of metal on stone. He coughed and sputtered, spitting out blood with a few teeth she knocked loose with the devastating hit. Wood scraping on stone soon followed as the people around them began to scramble from their seats.

Some were scurrying towards her and Darcy, while others were clambering to the nearest exit in the pandemonium that ensued. It was a healthy bit of chaos that had those goons stumbling to pounce on her. A few even looked to be more concerned with the scattered coins on the floor, their greed clearly taking priority over any of their loyalties.

It was just the break Oleander needed, taking advantage of the opening to make a dash for the tavern kitchen.