[ She had hot feet, thanks, courtesy of the soup in her foot -- but there wasn't time to dwell on the insult when there was injury coming her way. Ange ducked the projectile, surprised by the strength of the throw, even coming from a woman who had just upturned a table.
Damn, she would have paid Jasmine a fortune for a gun and a few grenades right now, to say nothing of a Paramail. But Jasmine's armory was a universe away, and that meant improvising. Ange's eyes flicked from side to side for a quick moment, looking for wherever this irritating bowl of soup had come from. She spotted it a heartbeat later, a large, steaming bowl. It was a good start.
Ange took a few steps in the direction of the bowl, pulling on all of the hauteur she'd learned as First Princess to turn it into more of a dismissive, unconcerned strut, and flipping the knife in her hand to create more visual interest in herself than anything she might be headed toward. Just casual movement. ]
For show, my ass. [ Flip. Flip. ] Some of us don't get to rely on magic when we throw tantrums.
[ She tensed just before she moved, a silent but unavoidable tell. Then she darted down, picked up the big serving dish of soup, and heaved it and its steaming contents at the hell woman with super strength, aiming for the head.
The thing was, Ange didn't trust herself to hit this woman accurately with a small, normal projectile -- not throwing a knife, not with a goblet or most of the other servingware. If this woman was strong enough to flip a table, she was probably strong enough to jump damn clear of any small projectile. But with something that would spill liquid everywhere, something that would would cover more area, there was a chance that some of it would get in the woman's eyes, or at least make her close her eyes.
And if that worked, if she got the woman off guard for a second, that's when Ange would use her knife. ]
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Damn, she would have paid Jasmine a fortune for a gun and a few grenades right now, to say nothing of a Paramail. But Jasmine's armory was a universe away, and that meant improvising. Ange's eyes flicked from side to side for a quick moment, looking for wherever this irritating bowl of soup had come from. She spotted it a heartbeat later, a large, steaming bowl. It was a good start.
Ange took a few steps in the direction of the bowl, pulling on all of the hauteur she'd learned as First Princess to turn it into more of a dismissive, unconcerned strut, and flipping the knife in her hand to create more visual interest in herself than anything she might be headed toward. Just casual movement. ]
For show, my ass. [ Flip. Flip. ] Some of us don't get to rely on magic when we throw tantrums.
[ She tensed just before she moved, a silent but unavoidable tell. Then she darted down, picked up the big serving dish of soup, and heaved it and its steaming contents at the hell woman with super strength, aiming for the head.
The thing was, Ange didn't trust herself to hit this woman accurately with a small, normal projectile -- not throwing a knife, not with a goblet or most of the other servingware. If this woman was strong enough to flip a table, she was probably strong enough to jump damn clear of any small projectile. But with something that would spill liquid everywhere, something that would would cover more area, there was a chance that some of it would get in the woman's eyes, or at least make her close her eyes.
And if that worked, if she got the woman off guard for a second, that's when Ange would use her knife. ]