Laurel gave a small snort of amusement at the comment, looking over at the man who had spoken. He seemed familiar, though she couldn't quite place where she knew his face from. Maybe he just reminded her of someone from home. It was hard to say. You met so many interesting people as a vigilante. And promptly kicked most of their asses, but still. He probably just had one of those faces.
"What can I say," she said after a moment, taking her drink from the bartender and taking a sip, setting some cash on the bar. "It's a gift." The man on the floor gave a pained groan as he dragged himself to his feet, glaring at her. He made a move to hit her and she spun out of the way, grabbing him by the back of the neck and slamming his face into the bar and tossing him back to the floor. Some men, probably his friends, moved toward them, ready for a fight, and her hand came up to her neck, fiddling with her collar. She could take them all out with her scream, but it would do more damage to the bar than she wanted to risk. She considered her options, then spared a glance at the guy who had spoken before.
"Want to lend a girl a hand?" she asked. She could probably take them all out her own, but sometimes it was good to have help.