All Estella Rey could do in that moment, was chuckle. Did the white boy even realize what he was saying to her? She had to wonder. Big brown eyes blinked long, dark, lashes before moving from the English 'chap' to the embarrassed Japanese girl, Estella's words coming out in Japanese: "Don't worry, your English is way better than this guy's Spanish." Words spoken with hints of reassurance, and a certain hard hearted playfulness. 'This guy' accompanied with a jerk of her thumb in the direction of the 'chap' who had turned his back to Estella. 

The girl who dismissed the necessity of basic needs unfurled another winner, a suggestion that they were the new 'social elite'--a suggestion that could only come from a privileged white girl who'd never seen the violent, dark, reach of ignorance and hatred first hand. Estella had, both as latina and 'freak.' And on that note, the Southern California girl reverted back to English, her eyes flasing a similar mischeviousness to the grin just barely visible on her lips, her left hand giving the English guy a tap on his back, her voice lowering just a touch, as if some private joke between them was being relayed, "Yeah, [i]sweet cheeks[/i]. You better be careful."

Estella was still mid-grin when Erik addressed her by name. Quickly, her features lost any hint of amusement, defaulting to a cold, humorless disposition. "Great, [i]Erik[/i]," the man's name exaggerated, spoken like it were a curse word, "A man both American and British governments warned me not to trust gets to be my doctor." Casual as a sip of Sunday tea, Estella took another drink of her Irish coffee, her lips reemerging after the sip with a faint smile of dim amusement at his 'advice.' "Don't worry, gringo. Not my first rodeo."

A statement punctuated with a flick of the cigarette in her right hand, grey-black ash floating to the ground, her eyes daggers at the man...until they flew to the opening of the bar door, and widened in surprise at the appearance of...little...devils? They could've been chupacabras for all Estella knew. For all she cared. Their appearance and physical take down of the strangest looking thing Estella had ever seen had startled her enough to bring about her default response to the surprise of violence: her own flash of violence. 

Big brown eyes came alive with a near blinding electric white and blue glow, sheer force of will and muscle memory following instinct and intuition and training in the manipulation of electromagnetic forces. In particular, of electromagnetic discharge. She was floating three feet higher than she'd been on the ground in a blink, sparks flying from her suddenly raised, palm out, left hand; tiny tendrils of blue-white electricity forking their way from Estella's hand to the little blue chupacabra looking pendejos. A new found depth and charge to her voice as the sheer amount of power pulsating through her body carried it through the room like thunder.

[b]"Get. Off. Him."[/b]