The derisive, nigh-insane laughter of Alicia caused Alistair to look toward her in concern, rivulets of potion running off his helmet to spatter across his greaves.  Had he not been clad in armor, the knight would have been visibly deflated by the woman's first comment.  For him, after all, it came completely unwarranted, and touched on his low self-esteem to bite particularly hard.  When she next hurled insult against him and his allies, she asserted with staggering presumptuousness that the creatures they fought and died for were no more than paltry scum.  Alistair's yellow eyes lay wide open, baffled by how or why someone could say something like that.  Proceeding to further slander them with a rather contrived argument, the woman sat down with an attitude of callous casualness, and over a tankard of liquor she declared that she could utterly defeat the entire group of eleven men, thee women, and a monster without so much as perspiring.  That, more than anything else so far, caused Alistair's eyes to smolder and his teeth to clench.  [i]Who does this lady think she is!?[/i]  The image of a javelin piercing her throat sprang into his mind, but at the same instant he reigned in his anger.  No matter how monstrous he seemed, Alistair would not allow himself to dishonor the idea of heroism.  

In the moments that he took to calm down, Alicia rose and approached the Stormbringers again—or at least, she sidled closer to the greatest congregation of them, for the group had naturally spread throughout the tavern, most trying to ignore the woman shrilly attacking them for no discernible reason.  Alistair quietly stood to his feet and made his way over to her and, allowing Silvana to defend herself against the pretty woman's tirade, before hailing Alicia.  His sarcasm bubbled up within him.  “Hey, what's your problem, your highness?  Why do you care about what a couple of us lowly peasants do?  And why the hell are you so bent on making stuff up about us?  So you know, we killed Looter Demons early this morning.  Not long before it was a bunch of Ghouls in an old mausoleum.  Where do you get off being so...so mean?  For no reason.  I bet we've helped more people than you ever have, flailing or not.  You're just picking fights in a bar with people just trying to help.  Sounds like you gave up on your cause, can't blame you; hard to stand for something when your high horse is doing all the standing for you.”  He kept his voice level despite the acidic rebuke he weaved with it.  Anyone listening could easily identify Alistair in this situation as the advocate of the little folk and of hope, stoic and formidable, while Alicia seemed the very essence of a violent drunk lashing out.

His yellow eyes paid special attention to her weapons, expecting her to try and assert her dominance against him by force any moment.  Few men knew female rage and violence like Alistair did.  Only a week and a half ago, he had once again visited a far deadlier example than Alicia.  “Beat us all without breaking a sweat.  Teach us a thing or two about combat.  Huh.  If I were as much of a thug as you thought I was, this 'joke' woulda already smashed you flat, teach.  I'm an moron and a monster, sure, but I'm good at one thing: If you and me were to fight, you'd be the one getting' schooled.”  He stood, arms hanging by his side, to see if his suspicions would be proven right.