Maeve remains cautious as the shadow resolves itself into the shape of someone squinting at her. The barest glint of light on metal suggests arms or armor, however, and she plucks her scarab charm from her hair and closes her eyes. A thought, a shiver of power, and she's kenned light to the charm. It flares suddenly bright and sunny in the darkness, a spark that she holds up toward the other person, hoping to catch them off-guard and ruin their nightvision so she can take a good look at them before they can get their bearings once more.

She opens her eyes, shielding herself from the light with her palm. A swordsperson--but not wearing black and not carrying a gun. That gives her enough hope of an ally that she pulls back behind a chair and doesn't immediately attack.