[color=#DEC5D6][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/33bpHQY.png[/img][/center]
[color=#8D3B72]Time:[/color] Evening
[color=#8D3B72]Location:[/color] Tough Tavern
[color=#8D3B72]Interactions/Mentions:[/color] [@CitrusArms] Stratya, [@Lava Alckon] Drake, [@princess] Charlotte, [@Tpartywithzombi] Ariella, [@Samreaper] Kazumin, [@Potter] Olivia, [@ReusableSword]
[color=#8D3B72]Aesthetic:[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/V5HP5na.png]Outfit[/url]


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Kalliope's forearms rested on the counter as she waited for the barmaid to finish pouring her refill when the massive Ox slammed the door shut. The grinding sound of the oak bar sliding into the iron brackets vibrated through the wood and into her palms, silencing the tavern's roar and killing her slight, comfortable buzz. 

When she saw the crossbowmen leap from the loft, Kalliope knew this was a calculated score. Then the shout came, "Hands on the tables!", and she complied immediately. Her hands, which had been loosely curled near the edge of the bar, slowly slid across the bar until they were pressed flat onto the sticky, damp wood. This was not submission, but effective threat management. 

Her eyes were free to move, however, and they locked onto Marius as the man on the table fired his pistol. The sharp, deafening bark was a command no one could ignore. She tracked the crossbow, saw the muscle blocking the exit, and then noticed Moira, who had been standing beside the counter all along not far from her, slipping a dagger to the barmaid’s throat. 

[color=#8D3B72][I]This one likes the work,[/I][/color] Kalliope thought, watching Moira's subtle cruelty. The dockhand's scream followed by the wet sound of his hand being sliced and then the man’s skull hitting the stone wall after Maelen’s gesture were the only lessons she needed. The final, sharp crack of bone against stone made her breath hitch in her throat. 

[color=#8D3B72]“Fucking hell,”[/color] she muttered under her breath, a curse swallowed by the rising tide of sobs and whimpers in the room. Anger swelled in her over the senseless violence and she began scanning again. Her eyes narrowed on the woman by the hearth, instantly recognizing the untargetable power as the most dangerous thing in the room. 

Garran’s calm voice cut through the fear, ordering everyone to be made drunk. Kalliope watched the barmaid, whose eyes were wide with terror, frozen in place by the counter, before Marius grabbed her to force her to pour. Her usefulness was zero. 

An idea–a dangerous but necessary play for mobility–crystallized in Kalliope’s mind. Her hands remained flat on the counter, but she leaned slightly forward, addressing the man who had ordered the drinks. 

[color=#8D3B72]“Your orders are going to be a problem,”[/color] she called out, her voice loud enough to carry over the hush, yet smooth and practical. She nodded toward the whimpering barmaid. [color=#8D3B72]“She’s useless. She's shaking so hard she'll spill a week's profit before she fills the first ten cups. You want them drunk, you need a steady hand at the tap, or you waste your own time.”[/color] 

She turned her attention fully to Marius now, meeting his gaze with cool amusement. [color=#8D3B72]“I’m steady, and I know the flow of the room. I’ll take over the service and delivery. You let the girl take my seat, [I]unharmed[/I], and I’ll get them sloshed in half the time.”[/color] 

Kalliope's eyes were locked on Marius, offering a final, calculated challenge with a wicked grin. [color=#8D3B72]“Here’s the game, razor-hand. If I spill a single drop–if I short the cup even once on the way to the table–you can take the payment out of me. [I]On any piece of my body you choose.[/I]”[/color]

She let the silence hold the weight of her proposition, her hands remained flat on the counter, waiting.[/color]