My muse is dancing alone. Your muse walks in on them. - What does your muse do? Laugh? Offer to dance too? Start beatboxing? Stay there, entranced?

▐▒⊰

     Effortlessly do feet move, the assassin flitting across sleek wooden floors. Distracted by the motions of legs, the click of heels, the sway of her hair as a graceful turn upon right heel. Small tune is hummed betwixt painted tiers, moving in accordance to its beat. 

     Right step, left step, right —

     Suddenly does something make contact with right leg, forcing body to lurch forward and make contact with the floor. There’s a grunt, followed by a low string of Orathalan curses, fingers clawing through brunette locks to push hair from in front of visage. Angrily does gaze sweep behind shoulder, instantly catching sight of a certain leather-garbed thief.

     Once more does several curses slip from maw with heavy accent before words of the common tongue, clear as day, follow suit.

               ❝DAMNIT GARRETT!❞