As the one poor bastard dry-heaves onto the dirty cobbles and struggles to get back up off his knees, the others finally snap out of their surprise and make their moves.

The man-- oh wait, sorry, woman (credit where credit is due to a lady making it in the male-dominated field of back-alley thuggery) nearest Avery is fortunately only wielding a knife, sharp as it appears to be. Avery is able to keep her distance more easily than she might have if she was dealing with a longer weapon, through a couple of feints and quick side-steps. She even manages to kick an abandoned, half-broken crate in between them, giving her enough space to shoot a look in Ciri's direction and ask, "You really read that tripe?"