Sark's blade crashes with Akel's, sparks flying off in every direction - there had been considerable force behind the attack, so the interception comes as some surprise to the guy. He plants his feet down as Akel pivots, lurching down and launching forward, though less powerfully than before. Sark goes into a roll and as he rises, he turns to face the faunus again.
"Hah. At least the crowd will get some show. Your turn, bitch. Come at me!" he calls out, spinning the sword in his hand once more and rolling his shoulders. "Ain't like we have a lot of time to play around."
Hart watched Akel deflected Sark's attack and in turn the guy dodged her's. The man grinned, taking a swig of his beer.
"If she can manage it, then I have no objections at all. He certainly deserves to be taken down a peg, but I'm not quite sure that'll be happening today," he says as he sets his glass aside. "It's just about time things started going down in the back isn't it?"
The question seemed to be aimed at nobody in particular. The woman next to him didn't react, but Rachel would spot Mordred's arm moving up to his ear, then back down.
On the other end of the room, the long-haired woman which had been sitting next to Pig Mask had left, though his bald companion remained, the bottle of liquor already half empty. Pig Mask himself was leaning back in his seat, seemingly watching the fight, though the mask made it hard to tell where he was looking at any point. The bald man had resumed scanning the crowd. His sight lingered on your group.
Was something bad about go down?
The footsteps drew ever closer to the office. Just as Prism would hide underneath the desk, the door would open, the footsteps stopping.
"Hm. Must have imagined things," would come a male voice from the doorway, "but check the room. I don't want anything interfering with things."
At this point, Prism's earpiece would turn on with the sound of Mordred's voice. "It is possible that you've been compromised. Get out as soon as possible and avoid being seen. Call out if you are spotted. Over and out."
By the tone of his voice, the message appeared to have been prerecorded. A short while after it ends, you would hear the footsteps resume - a single pair, heading towards the desk. Slow and deliberate. Searching.
"Did you just say something?" the voice from before asked, still at the door.
"Uh, no, sir. I didn't..."
You would now see the legs of the man searching the room, dressed in black-and-grey military fatigues. For a moment, it appears that he has spotted you. No, he definitely has.
Then, a muscular arm extends from the ground, grabs onto the upper leg of the soldier and pulls down hard, the poor guy's chin slamming against the side of the desk. Before the man at the door could finish an expletive, he is cut off half-word which is followed by a loud thud.
There is a pause which lasts only a few short moments.
"You may now step out, young lady," comes a somewhat deep and utterly calm voice. "Though your cover is not yet blown, it is best for you to leave before things go sour."