That one step away from the desk, and the subsequent trip-and-fall, has shifted the cloud of purple haze. Just enough, from the perspective of someone who's been slinking with all the stealth at her command along the other wall.

She can't see most of what's happening inside the fog, but the rough shape of it and the noises coming out tell her what must be where. And with so many attacking at once there's no way the foe will see one more coming -- and it's in those moments of distraction, the chances to strike unseen, that rogues do what they do best.

Cassandra takes one moment to be sure of her course, shuts her eyes and holds her breath in case it will do any good, and takes four running steps forward to sweep up the desk chair and bring it down as hard as she can on the space she's sure holds Malin's head.