Theodosia's piercing glare was like that of a thousand daggers poking into the very conscience of whoever it was aimed at. In this case, Anthony was the unlucky recipient, and she watched him carefully as he reached for his pocket. If he even dared, if he was that foolish, to draw a weapon on her, well, he'd better count his prayers because she was taking no shit from anyone today. Truly, her cold anger and just complete done-with-this-bullshit-ness were so strong she might just be able to ignore the stab of a blade or the shot of a pistol.