"It's not assault yet, boy." She'd full on hissed it, low and full of promise, still leaning forward over the table, quivering in anger. It might have been ironic to a passerby who took care to notice. She was a beautiful woman, Beast, but she'd been told she looked most beautiful angry. And he, well- that was not a lovely expression on his face.

But it didn't scare her at all, merely tugged a corner of her crimson lips in to a sneer for his decorum, the tug at his waistcoat.

"Fer someone demandin' civility a me, you sure like to insult based on whose bitch of a mother married a man with a title 'r money." Perhaps that might sting- she'd no idea how people felt about their mothers, considering hers had abandoned her to a workhouse early on. Maybe it would- but even if it did, she preferred a harsher sting, like her palm across his face at the least.