There was a flicker of fear in those few seconds as they transported to that place beyond light. She took a breath, but her lungs found no air. Her nails scraped against the table top, so tight was her grip.
"Enough!" She shouted, leaping to her feet. The star around her neck blazed with Power. Somehow, the table had been upended. Whatever fear there was had been replaced by seething rage. "You could be Melitele and her thrice-blessed tits for all I care, I will not be intimidated by anyone."
"It has become increasingly clear," she continued, looking down the length of her nose at him, "that you invited me here under the pretense that I am willing to negotiate to any terms than that of a business transaction. Quid pro quo, this for that, nothing more. Bark all you want, you glorified tour guide for the dearly departed--" she bit viciously into the alliteration, "it isn't, and was never, your help that I required or desired. And you won't scare me into submission with your parlor tricks, no, it may cause lesser women to crumble but I am an enchantress and I bow to nothing."
It was at that point that the waiter returned with their drinks, only to find the tail-end of the unfolding scene as Yennefer's shoulders and chest heaved from anger.
"You'll have to forgive my early departure," she shot sideways at the spooked man, "but I find myself in boorish company." Swooping up her gloves, the sorceress swept out of the restaurant.