Rita paused when she heard someone speak, and her eyes narrowed. She directed her glare first to Delilah, and then, when she slowly turned to face whoever it was had been speaking to her, to the offender in question. You never spoke to a lady like that. Rules one, two, and three in the (all right, imaginary) etiquette handbook. Did it matter that she herself frequently broke every rule of politeness imaginable? Not at all. Because now she was offended.
"There's no need to be rude, sir," she said, pushing her hands into her pockets. "You could have asked me to move." As if she'd just step aside and let him get his little hands on Delilah or Dalton or Xavier. Really.