The lack of followup weapon clashing and/or elf-powered explosion was encouraging, though it did took the wind out of Yvonne's sail. Scratching her head rather awkwardly, another look at the discount Davy Jones confirmed that the creature wasn't turning hostile despite presumably having gotten shot just moment ago.

She had to admit that it got more patience than herself.

[b][color=#a4161a]"Uh, riiight."[/color][/b] She helped the old man off the wagon, their pace slow enough that by the time they got to the confrontation site the monstrous merchant had long since faded into the tenebrous veil of night. So much for getting all riled up, but guess it could've been a lot worse.

Yvonne kept her tongue for herself for now, not quite having the context of what's going on beyond the fact that a shot was fired. No one looked injured in their group, she'll have to listen in a bit before starting to be judgmental. Call it an instinct, but her bullshit detector was tingling. There's definitely a dumbfuckery ongoing here, one way or another.