She let loose a string of language so colorful it would give a rainbow a run for its money. It was one thing to destroy her furniture, but some of those mirrors were antiques. Her eyes narrowed as she searched for the culprit. While distracted by the further threat to her collection, two grappling figures rudely collided with her.
“Botheration!” Her fingers clenched into fists, adrenaline coursing through her body. She swung into a fighting stance to face the men who had dared run in to her. In theory, at least one of them was an enemy.
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” a stubbly man cried, then dealt his opponent a jab to the teeth. “I’ll take care of him for you.”
Vi turned on the other man, glad to finally have someone to hit. But blood gushed from his face, his voice thick and pathetic as he groaned, “He’s the one who did it. I wouldn’t hurt a lady.”
“Liar!” the first man replied incredulously.
“It wasn’t my fault!”
“Was so!”
She could only blink dumbly as the two men resumed punching one another. The scruffy one tripped toward the stage and the other followed, flashing his gap-toothed grin. She clucked in disgust, then resumed the search for a foe, and a chance to wreak a little destruction of her own.
Phoebe Darqueling 
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