And down they went, ass over teakettle, and Azabeth did her best to tuck and roll with the larger man, praying to whatever deity happened to be listening that they would suffer nothing worse than bruised dignities in the tumble. He ended up on top, of course (not for the first time in their acquaintance) with a hand around her throat, and damnation she'd forgotten how strong he was, knowing and knowing were two separate things, but she wriggled like a fish and twisted, attempting to get free before he blacked her vision -
And then he heard her words, or recognized her face, or perhaps her body; no matter, he let her go, and she slipped out from under him and back onto her feet, head swiveling, scanning the street. The thieves weren't upon them, yet. That wouldn't last long. "Trying to keep you from running headlong into an ambush," she hissed back, moving to the side of the alley, to a haphazard stack of crates. It wasn't enough to quite reach the top without clinging to the side of the building, but with help, even someone without Az's agility could reach the roof. "Now c'mon, before they figure out that something's up!"