Kat was still fuming when she practically threw herself into her usual seat, the tavern's strongest drink in hand. [i]Gods[/i], she was pissed. She dealt with idiots all day and didn't get more than annoyed at them, and now this. Where the hell had her composure gone? That was a silly question. She knew exactly where it'd gone: out the door the instant the knight had the nerve to insinuate Kat was some down-on-her-luck waif, unable to do anything without assistance. (Because really, that's exactly what she was, wasn't it?)

She was ripped out of her thoughts when she heard Hel growling. The knight was up and glowering, taking a purposeful step towards her. The leopard stood between his charge and this new threat, muscles tensed and ready to spring if the stranger made a move. She took in a breath to mouth off again, but that runt with the mismatched wings shot up, apparently feeling the need to intervene.

Kat's eyebrow twitches as she just got more pissed off. Now this twerp thought she needed help, too. 

"No," she called out. She forced herself to relax in her seat, once again running her fingers through Hel's fur. He just glanced back at her, a questioning look on his face. "Let 'im try what he wants. I wanna see Bernie throw his sorry ass out." That was probably the one reason she'd yet to draw a knife. Kat'd been at the Blue Moon Tavern long enough to know how bar fights ended.