Mobius & Sharon
After the first night of the feast, she'd learned how to better handle her Asgardian liquor. She wasn't drunk or hungover today, which was definitely better than day two (and three, if she was honest). She'd had one small drink, but was pacing herself with both food and alcohol, so she had her wits about her when the shit hit the fan.
Years of living in Madripoor taught Sharon how to come prepared to any event. She had her baton slipped into the clutch that was by her side at all times. There was a gun in a thigh holster under her gown. She might have been paranoid, but she was the PowerBroker, and that came with a certain amount of danger. Pretty much at all times. She had to be prepared.
When the chaos erupted on the fourth night of the festivities, Sharon was prepared. The baton came out at the ready, though she left the gun where it was. Those white masks were hideous, and she wanted to break one. (Such rage, Sharon. Such rage.)
Mobius was by her side, because of course he was. Sharon broke into a smirk at his words. "Gotta keep us on our toes, right?" She responded.
Then Sharon was distracted by a Dark Elf approaching. She stepped between the Dark Elf and Mobius, flicking her baton so it extended to its full length. The Elf engaged, and Sharon swung. She was no Asgardian warrior, but she was a Midgardian warrior, and when it came to one-on-one combat she could hold her own. After some whacks with her baton, twisting to avoid swings from her opponent, grunting, flailing, and Sharon kicking quite a bit of ass (and having hers beat a bit, too), an Asgaridan guard came to Sharon's aid, and got the Elf off of her.
"We need to make sure our people get out," Sharon said to Mobius, now considerably more dissheveled. Her hair was falling out of its nice twist. There was blood at the corner of her mouth, and she was likely to have a shiner tomorrow. "Can you make a portal back to Stark Tower?"