[The offender tries to laugh in Jamie's face, but it comes out sounding a little more like a choked duck.] 'You call that a lady?'

[The offender's friends froze in the midst of their fight with Elizabeth, one of them has her held under her arms where she continues to thrash and attempt to get her footing and break the hold. Both of them apparently have split lips, and another one puts his hand guiltily behind his back when Jamie looks over.]

[She's been hit in the face at least three times, but she doesn't seem beat yet. There's still fight in her from the way she glares at this Scotsman for interrupting what would no doubt have been a fight for her to spend weeks recovering from. The guy holding her up finally realizes that if he doesn't put Elizabeth down, the interloper will start threatening to cut off his hands, and drops her. He likes his hands.]

[Elizabeth turns around, unsteady, and wipes her lip. Yeah, that's definitely blood. She narrows her eyes at the group.] I would've taken y'to the cleaners.

[No, she really wouldn't have. Not without blowing a tear in the universe wide open in this bar-- and even drunk Elizabeth knows that would be a one-way ticket to a life lived in a lab. That's probably why she looks so irate with her savior-- can't someone just not save her from making a terrible decision?]

Y'ever get your lip split? It's not a day at the beach. [Yes, she's hurt, but she's walking. Weaving, really, back towards the bar.]