"Doesn't look like anyone will." The crone tsked; there was something close to a blood curdling scream from within the mass of bodies. Whatever was happening had (d)evolved into an all in as one rather large fellow yanked out of the crowd and tossed her onto a nearby table. "Perhaps someone should call the authorities."
She hadn't moved. She looked as if she weren't going to move. Her hands rested on the table top, her eyes resting on the young man across the table from her. How much blood would she need? She'd prefer a vial, or even a jar, but just a little bit could work. A little on a handkerchief or napkin.
A plastic cup full of ice and coffee came flying their way. The crone leaned back, almost rolling her eyes. This would have been so much easier if the damn boy had gone into a bar, not one of these ridiculous shops.