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Despite her loud and aggravated protests to Dinah and Zinda about 'wasting her time', with the exception of the first ten minutes in the club to get oriented, Babs has spent the entire time out on the dance floor. She's currently working on her fourth dance partner, the previous three all having ~~been wimps~~ taken a breather.

There are few things Barbara Gordon likes more than dancing, and even fewer things that she can still do in the chair. And her enjoyment is evident in the absurdly large grin on her face.

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Someone's a moron. It also doesn't help Sparrow's mood, and she responds with a tooth-cracking upper cut to the chin.

Part of her is vaguely aware that now she's just beating up defenseless humans, but most of her doesn't give a flying fuck. They rape underage girls, and deserve everything they get from her.

Which is why she doesn't care when she breaks his nose.

He groans, and cowers, flinging hands over his face. It's a bit pathetic, really.

Behind her, Sam is waking up -- and trying to crawl away rather than help his friend out.

Sparrow finally straightens up and spits at the guy in front of her, before turning back and scowling at Sam.

"You guys ever show up at this club again and you'll get even worse," she says.

She strides directly towards the gun, picking it up between thumb and forefinger like one might scoop up after a dog.

"Geez, we w'n't've hurt you," Sam groans, crawling to a wall to drag himself to a sitting position. "Lighten up."

Sparrow scoops up a stray rock while she's there and sends it flying at his face, hard enough to hurt and hopefully scratch, but not with any intent to knock him up.

"Right, you were just going to rape me. Scum."

"Doesn' count as rape if y'not fighting," Sam protests, through a mouthful of rock.

"'fhut up," his friend groans. "Enough, a'igh', we gi'up."

"Who sold you the drugs?" Sparrow asks.

She wants to ring out her shirt, but she won't get undressed in front of them.

"Iunno," Sam mumbles.

The other just glares at her from rapidly blackening eyes.

"Oh man," she says, cracking her knuckles. "And here's me thinking you guys had had enough."

"There's a guy in there! I don't know him!"

Unsurprisingly, it's Sam who blanches at her gesture and scrambles to tell her.

"He's got stacks, I dunno where, he's inside, please don't hit me any more."

Sparrow rolls her eyes, straightens up, and pulls a disgusted face at the mess on her back.

"I meant it when I said I didn't wanna see you here again," she tells them both, and because it's a better exit then walking, fires a grapple up at the walls and disappears into the dark above their heads.

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