DAMNED IF I YIELD AT THE END OF THE CHASE
Min saw her knife being picked up from under the table, but couldn't see who had taken it until she resurfaced - immediately her face soured as she heard his accent. Unfamiliar, not the voice of someone from within the barrier. An Outlander. She snatched the knife back, mumbling something that could be a thanks or an insult.
"No. I can handle myself." She made clear, straightening up before she sat back down. "I certainly don't need your help." The knife went back into her pocket, shoved down securely this time so it wouldn't slip again.
Despite her tone, she didn't actually want him to leave - working past her initial disgust, she realised this could be a good chance to get to know what the Outlanders were doing here, what kind of things they had planned. This man had scars on his hands and something experienced in his face; he seemed someone who would do things.
"...But. Maybe I do. Tell me your name. What do you do around here? Is it important?"
MIN
