Choo, Cadela Horrible. I'll geev choo a damn story!"

Rita had slipped her hand into her every-convenient bag, and was feeling for her parchment and Quick-Quotes when she became aware of Morela impending attack. One wont survive long as an investigative (not to say muck-raking) reporter if she cant protect herself once she has stepped over that mysterious line that seems to trigger abuse from some, and violence from others. Of course, not stepping over the line was out of the question. Where else would the stories come from, if not on the far side of that magical line?

As one would suspect, though, a werewolf will respond ferociously, especially a half drunk one. Ritas fingers, therefore, were rapidly redirected from quill to wand, and before you could say, Ace Reporter Attacked in Barbecue Brawl, she had lifted her wand over the edge of her bag, and with a quick flick, directed a mild Jelly-Leg Jinx toward Morela. Oops-a-daisy, Rita squeaked girlishly. A little tipsy are we? she said, dropping the wand back out of sight.

(OOC: I don't mean to power-play here, so, if you wish, Rita could miss, and someone else could get the staggers. Either that or Morela gets the wobblies, and Josh could take Rita down.)