Manners (wc: 296)

The door flew open and three armed men burst into the room.

Custom this early was unusual at the Bawdy Swan. The appearance of ruffians did nothing to improve Hawinne's mood. The pleasant smile on her face took effort.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

The smallest one snarled, "Keep quiet, wench, and you'll no get 'urt. Where's th' backdoor?"

Before she could respond, one of the larger brutes spoke to the rat-faced man. "Jeric, tha's no way to talk to a lady."

The little one looked up at his companion. "Her?" He waved his dirk in Hawinne's direction.

"A lady?" He exploded into laughter. "Dolt. If she's a lady, then I'm th' bloody crown prince."

The third man looked puzzled. His blank expression betrayed neither deceit nor mirth. "But Jeric, youse said I was the lost prince."

No-good ruffians and not very smart ones. Hawinne's mood worsened.

"The little sot's right. I'm no lady. I don't need your trouble in my house, either. Carry yourselves out the back. There." She gestured toward the kitchen.

Jeric smacked the others. "Get moving," he blustered.
         
As he trailed after them, he paused. "Iffen I wasn't pressed for time, I'd teach you some manners. But, I'll forget your sass for that fancy pin you got there."

"You don't want to leave with this pin. It'll bring you nothing but trouble."

"You know nothin' from trouble," Jeric spat. He snatched the brooch from Hawinne's bodice, shoving into his pocket. "Don't make me come back to teach you a lesson, Hussy."

He hurried toward the back.  A muffled "pop" and short scream told Hawinne the exact moment the thief stepped into the alley. As she waited for the Watch, Hawinne smiled, "It's bad manners to take someone's prison-pin. Hussy."