"Fuck you, man."

You hear a low voice sneer with an almost impressive amount of volume from across the Inn you've found yourself in after a run-in with a trigger-happy, crossbow-owning BugBear.

When you look over, you catch sight of her - wild reddish curls and a splatter of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She's poised almost like a viper - muscles tense and a hand gripping the edge of the table, as if ready to forcefully either push herself away from the man across from her, or throw her entire body weight right on top of him. You honestly can't tell which is more likely.

You could intervene, stop the fight before it even begins.

...You could also wait a hot minute and help her tend to her wounds, or join the fight, and hope she's on the winning side.