[ Had Primrose remained an Azelhart, cordial in formal matters, honorable but unyielding in combat, perhaps Balthier would have slipped in and made his way safely away from his mark with her none the wiser.

But she has spent ten years learning. Forcing herself to learn, to survive and thrive and lie and all for a singular purpose. Even if one of her travel companions had not been a thief himself, slipping baubles and accessories loose without so much as blinking to give himself away-- her wariness has sharpened her wits. He speaks and moves as a distraction.

And just as smoothly, bracelets jingling with the movement, her fingers wrap around his wrist. ]

Shall I accompany you, then, good sir? [ Primrose purrs the words rather suggestively, though there's certainly a storm brewing in the darkness of her eyes. ]

Someplace quieter, perhaps? I fear with your coordination, you will be off your feet sooner rather than later.