(SE) Come out, come out, wherever you are

I R I S Iris guessed the assailant was her father's man. She hoped that he'd still be busy getting a knife out of his flesh. She assumed that he might be attracted by the allure of glittering jewels, up for grabs and within reach (more so than knife-related revenge). She looked though the small window, an opening held gingerly by a rotting frame, down at the worn cobblestone that stretched upwards. Deserted save for a sleeping dog. Above, she saw quiet rooftops branching like a stairwell leading nowhere. In the distance, a single chimney was releasing grayish fumes that reached up into the pale blue sky. She felt him approach. A second later the shadow had slid into the ruin, making the space tight and narrow. She curled up with the window behind her, just a girl again, the light framing a shrinking frame. The threat, vocalized, told her only what she already knew. This man was dangerous. The type that skulked through the Acquarone estate to and from her father's rooms. Quiet, distrustful, with eyes that took hold of hidden corners and never let their back face the room. She'd ripped a piece of fabric from her shirt, fumbling with the cut on her hand. Every nerve in her body told her not to listen to his words, but they still made her hands clumsy as they tied a knot around her palm. "Convenience," she answered feeling the need to clear her throat. "What did he trade for me, I wonder?", she grit her teeth when anger didn't completely mask the sudden sting of pain that blindsided her just like a dagger out of the dark.