Round 18

Jeane's crimson eyes dart between the armed men and Hera, her expression shifting from barely-contained rage to something more calculating. Five minutes? You want me to let these assholes intimidate us into packing up like we're running some kind of street market? She hisses under her breath, wings fluttering with agitation. These aren't local thugs trying to shake down easy targets - those are real weapons and professional training. The moment we turn our backs or try to leave 'peacefully', they'll cuff us and haul us in for whatever the hell they think we're doing here.

She takes a step forward, her voluptuous form tensing as if ready to spring into action despite the obvious disadvantage. We need information first - who sent them? What do they know? And most importantly, how many more are on their way. Her voice drops even lower, barely audible over the rustling of leaves in the wind. I can handle this situation without violence... but not if we're blind to whatever fuckery is waiting around the corner.