[center][h3][color=fff79a]Chloe Bridgette Cakebread-Yonaka[/color][/h3][/center] 

	Chloe had been corrected by Lillaine twice in a matter of seconds. Feet off the table, and this is Orleans. She smiled and cheekily wobbled her head side to side as she placed her boots on the floor. Clapping as the performers finished, she was the last member of the group to realise something was wrong as the performer began to talk real...well, Nazi-like.

	Yonaka's eyes widened and she stuffed the rest of her bread into her mouth as suddenly bullets were wizzing everywhere. Immediately her heart rate kicked into overdrive. For a moment she chewed, keeping her head down as Taras and Lilliane spoke calmly of their situation. Swallowing her interrupted breakfast, that nervous smile creeped onto her face again.

	[color=fff79a]"Bloody hell! Say la vee!? Ritz!"[/color] A light yellow aura surrounded her body and the porcelain and wood automaton materialized at her back. It immediately took a defensive position and aimed to bat away and protect the group behind the table from any stray bullets. Hot lead would be stopped and collide with an invisible force in mid air to non Stand users. In the chaos of the gunfire it would be hard to notice.

	She couldn't believe it! Betrayed by musicians! Her own kind! And to think she had liked their music! Well, in retrospect, that piano had fascist undertones, or something. Either way it didn't sound very good in her memory now that she knew the truth. Lilly seemed to be cooking up a scheme, and Chloe was happy to oblige. Maybe those needles were a weapon, or something. She could only imagine that Lilliane was a Stand user, too.

	From what she had seen thus far, her Stand was the bruiser of the bunch. The others were lethal scalpels and razors, but Ritz was a big fuck-off hammer. So if any thing could chuck that ball o' needles out the pub, it'd be Chloe's sexy doll soul. 

	Ritz loomed over Lilliane, looking apprehensive but determined, and plucked the ball of needles with it's oversized but delicate fingers. When the moment was right, and the bullets seemed to slow as the krauts prepared their next volley, the Stand, much like the baseball players she had seen on the telly, raised it's front knee up, closed it's hands into it's chest, and fastballed the needleball out the front door with tremendous force and speed that would make even the best baseball player blush.