Sapphire eyes flickered in the low candle light of the tavern from beneath the dark hood that framed Isabellas features. Pure alabaster nails clicked against the table resting in front of her as she watched and listened to the ruffians in the establishment.  Pale lips pursed out of frustration as it was as she expected, nothing more than a rowdy crowd looking for trouble but not much more than that. Her slender nose flared as a huff passed her lips and blew the ash pale bangs from her brows. 

		Her ears perked up at the words the woman spoke at the bar and her head tilted inquisitively as she looked the woman over. She seemed out of place there, then again so did Isabella. Sliding the chair back it thumped against the wooden wall behind her as she rose from her place. Stepping around the table she slowly made her way over. Coming up behind the woman her arms crossed over her chest and she gave the bar tender a look that made him swallow hard and take a step back. 

		“No..none here,” he stammered as he looked at Isabella trying to answer Jeannes question before turning and scurrying like a rat to the other side of the bar. Isabella was about to place her hand on the womans shoulder when a thick masculine hand gripped her own, nails black from dirt and grim packed beneath them. 

		“Remove your hand before I do it for you,” she said in a calm tone. 

		“Come on, just want a dance,” he said through a drunken slur. Isabella rolled her eyes.

		“Last warning,” she said, repeating the same calm tone.

		“Hey, I said I wanted a dance!” he sneered as he spun her around. 

		“Very well, let’s dance,” she said as a cold grin tugged at the corner of her lips. Her hand came up and over his, fingers curling against his skin as her nails pierced through the flesh and blood began to drip from the wounds.  She pulled down as her leg arced  over his arm and her foot found floor on the other side. A turn of her hips and a snap could be heard through the tavern followed by an echo of scream from his lip.

		“Let go!” he said trying to pull his arm back.

		“I thought you wanted to dance?” she smirked as her free hand drew a dagger, it spinning in her thin fingers. “Very well, just to finish my promise,” she added before blade met muscle and bone, severing his hand from his wrist.  He fell back, holding his stump as she tossed the severed appendage towards him. Pulling a rag out she wiped the blade  and her hand clean before tossing it over his face. 

		“Clean yourself up,” she said flatly as she turned to bring her attention back to the woman who had spoken about kidnappers. The mans comrades rushing him out of the tavern as he whined about Isabella taking his hand.