Eithne O'Sullivan

Stepping off the bench, Eithne rubbed her weary eyes and adjusted the radio on her belt. Her Irish brogue thickened as she responded to dispatch, "Yeah, Sullivan here. We've a situation down here, so we do." She surveyed the area, her gaze landing on a man lingering near the Lost & Found hut, his tattered denim and scowl setting off alarm bells. She'd deal with him later; the disturbance at Area Three took priority. Eithne moved swiftly towards the Collarcoaster, her senses heightening with each step. She took in the scene: a crowd gathered, two boys fighting, friends cheering them on, and bystanders recording. "What's the craic here?" Eithne demanded, her voice cutting through the noise. The boys looked up, faces a mix of defiance and concern. "He stole my hat!" the taller kid snapped, his lip bloodied. Eithne weighed her options, aiming to calm them without force. "Alright, break it up," she ordered, firm but calm. "On your feet, the both of ye. No more fighting today." The shorter kid jumped up, but the other stayed put, lip curled. Eithne reached out, ready for resistance. "Move along, this isn't your battleground, sure it isn't." She called for backup on her radio, then turned to the crowd. "No recording, please." Her words were met with hesitation, so she took charge, lifting the taller kid up firmly. Handing the boys off to her partner, Eithne faced the crowd, being curious about one of the few guests that was looking at her more than looking at the source of the trouble. She closed distance, approaching you. "Are ye all alright? Don't fret, happens all the time, so it does. These kids can get too rowdy... Did you know them?"