As Kohl begins to activate the curse with abandon, Anna's hand releases from his body. It flies to her mouth to cover it. The face behind her hand is something of a conundrum. Her expression is frozen between disappointment, fear, and a degree of admiration. She probably would take the same route herself.
With this in mind, she neither condones or condemns Kohl's actions, but instead focuses on her surroundings. She knows, deep down, that their magical antics will eventually call notice to the trio; not a good thought. Magic flaring up in the tavern, in her mind, would only endanger her position within the caste. It would be her fault. Her fault that Kohl got out of line, and somehow her fault that Sebastian was even magical in the first place.
Her mind races, and immediately goes back to her training. There were years of magical tutelage at her finger tips. Even now she could remember a spell written in Latin that would help her. 'No, putting the bar to sleep wouldn't help, not in the long run.' she thinks. To answer her problems that way would result, ultimately in the same fallout: Her Disgrace.
Her frustration breaks through and she's glaring at the two boys, but they're too oblivious in their testosterone to notice.
And then, a switch clicks in her head. (You've got customers.)
Swiveling on the chair, she takes off. To everyone else she might seem a little rushed, a little to enthusiastic. She makes it to the dark skinned woman standing at the doorway, before too many have noticed. "Hi!, My name is Annabel, we're having a really busy evening. Would you mind waiting at the bar?" she pauses, then repeats this in Turkish with the same psychotic verve as she did in English.
'New plan Anna, get witnesses!'