Nearly, but not quite. Masked there's no need to affect a smile, so Yseult's head tips and body turns in seeming helpfulness. "It is a bit hidden," she says, one arm spreading as she steps nearer, "All the plants. Let me show you." Raised brows and a quicker step, as if she's moving to catch an impending fall, brings her near enough to lock fingers around the wrist of the mercenary's knife-hand in her skirts and twist viciously at the same time she hooks a heel around her ankle, putting the other woman as off-balance as she was pretending to be. The Scoutmaster belays her stumble with an arm around the waist and steers her toward an alcove.

At the same time, the man in the scratchy brocade reaches the apex of his path through the crowd. A casual flick of his hand launches some tiny missile in the direction of the punch table, because a shower of glass suddenly shocks the assemblage as a tower of goblets cascades to the floor. While they are looking that way, he flicks two more small missiles (they will prove to be some kind of coin-sized metal disc with sharpened edges) toward Tsenka's throat and goes for Ellie, blades emerging from the sleeves of his doublet.