Anger, shame, resentment, fear I blinked twice at that mix of emotions-they had flashed rapidly through each other before settling on fear, then fading rapidly. I looked around slowly, to see a short, stocky man clutching at his leg as he left the tavern. From the thin trail of blood that followed behind him, the reason for holding onto his limb was rather apparent - but also a bit confusing.

Emotions had surged up rapidly behind me while I was drinking my mead, too jumbled from too many sources to accurately tell what was going on. But there had not been a bar brawl like I would have expected - something must have happened that put paid to the situation before it escalated any further. But if that had been the case, then wouldn't they should have also had heightened emotions to match it. Nothing like that had pricked my sense though, and looking around I couldn't really see anyone who had the kind of anger on their face to have shut a bar brawl down before it could begin.

Curious. The other option was someone with at least some level of emotional control. Or someone who actually felt nothing about dealing with the actions of the dwarf, and handled it swiftly and forcefully enough that no one else dared try to follow up on whatever had happened. I chewed on my lower lip for a moment as my eyes scanned the tavern. There was now an undercurrent of fear in the air, tainting my empathy just enough to be constantly prodding me.

There did seem to be an area of the tavern that other people were now avoiding though. Hmm, seemed like the contender for 'who kicked the short man out of the tavern' was over there. I took I slow drink of my mead, humming in thought. Whoever was over there clearly was in no mood to take any grief or stress, so probably for the best not to -

"Damn bastard thinks he can get away with whatever he wants, don't he." I hadn't noticed the rising resentment boiling up next to me, and if I hadn't caught the words and associated them with the emotion that was surging upwards, I might have continued to ignore it." I'm gonna -" The man speaking was the one who had warned me about going out alone again. I set my mead down and clamped my hand on his shoulder.

"Probably not the best idea to be muttering aloud things like that, neighbor." His eyes snapped around from the corner, where he had been glaring, to settle on mine. I could see, and feel, the shift in his emotions. Whoops. Leaping before I looked, again.

"You're with 'im, ain't ya, ya bastard. S'why ye're alone earlier, he abandoned ya didn't he?" He spat the words out. "Or ye came early to wait for 'im." Resentment - anger The shift between emotions was smooth, feeding each other in a spiral back and forth. Damn it. I'd hoped to interrupt his focus on the target of his fury, not give him a new one. If he'd gone after whoever was in that corner, he'd probably end up like the short stocky man from earlier, bleeding from a wound.

"No, can't say that I am. Never met 'him', whoever he is." My words fell on dear ears, though. Fury He lashed out, smashing his fist into my injured arm, and I had to grit my teeth hard to avoid screaming in pain. My hand was still on his other shoulder, and I dug my fingers in hard. "Apologize."

"Fuck ye, ye Brotherhood sympie." He ground his fingers against the cuts on my arm, and I could feel a hot wetness spreading around and under the bandages. My patience and friendly demeanor ran out real fast then. I took the flicker of anger that coiled in my gut, and fed that heat into a spot under my hand on his shoulder.

Unseen to anyone, the fabric of the man's sleeve began to smolder. It hurt us both, the sudden flame springing up and almost immediately being smothered, but even that flare of pain was enough to make the man jerk his hand away from me and stagger back. I had been expecting the surge of heat after all, and he hadn't. His hand shot to his shoulder and I narrowed my eyes,watching him quail for a moment before I shook my head. "Not worth it." I finally unclenched my teeth and turned back to the bar. My fingers curled around the handle of the mug I had been drinking from and I drained the sweet alcohol in one long swallow, then set the mug back down as I stood up.

Now I had to go change my bandages, again. The crimson stain spreading across the white linen was rather telling, even if it was slow. I left the man clutching at his singed shirt and started heading for the door, ignoring the bewilderment/fear/anger that was still simmering in the man. If he wanted to try continuing with me, or trying to start something with whoever had sent the short man packing earlier, he was welcome to it - but I'd rather be on the street in either case.