Laura would have observed the other more carefully if she wasn't suddenly attacked by well placed strikes. The sword going through her torso had surprised the man, especially the moment her claws dug into his throat causing him to gurgle to his death. These were not mere thugs. These were killers. They smelled of blood and their strikes clearly sung of death as their swords whistled through the air.
She pulled the sword out of her gut, letting it drop to the ground as she danced and twisted her way out of another attack, then another. Her leg flew up gracefully, another glint shining in the light as her toe claw buried itself in yet another person's face. Her wound had already healed. They had chosen the wrong day to be here, not that she'd use it as an excuse. She could say it, if it made them feel that there was a reason for their slaughter other than her protecting people. She was protecting a boy who was masked.
Everyone had to understand, but she knew they wouldn't. Some would say that they would, but they wouldn't. She'd come to terms with that. Even as she dug her claws into another man's gut and kicked him off into the man behind him. The man easily brushed him aside and came toward her.
Again no hesitation. She was marred with red all over from their strikes. They hurt, but the pain would dull and eventually fade, just like the wounds they inflicted.