Yes, it's your job.

“Ladies.” You announce in your best cop voice. “I'm with the Westmooring Company, in charge of security for this event.” Taking out your company ID card you quickly flash it, hoping it is enough. “The faire is not yet open. Do you have documentation allowing you to enter early?”

The taller girl responds, “No hablo Ingles.” The other just laughs, “Yeah, we don't speak English.”

“You're going have to leave ladies.” Taking out your cell phone you point down the path towards the main gate. “Either you get walking now or I call the police and you will be arrested.”

Unimpressed the girls begin to chat with each other in Spanish, ignoring you.

“Damn.” You think, hoping they wouldn't call your bluff. This is not a great way to begin your security career, having to go running to the police at the first sign of trouble. As you contemplate dialing you notice the girls looking at something behind you. Pivoting on an angle to keep your front to both them and whatever might be coming from behind, you glance down the path with your peripheral vision and see a tall redhead walking towards you.

“Is there a problem here?” She asks in an Irish accent.”

“I'm with security.” You reply, “these ladies are apparently trespassing and are refusing to leave. Are you with them or the faire staff?”

“No, I am not with the staff.” She answers walking up close to you as she waves the girls to move away from the fence. “I'm with the Saint Nicholas of Myra Reformatory School for Girls and these ladies are my charges.” The girls comply without hesitation and move beside their apparent teacher.

The redhead is attractive; wearing a strange pair of rounded gold sunglasses that look like their from some futuristic 19th century, worn jeans and a midriff cut white t-shirt that does a poor job of conveying being a nun, or even a school employee. They do, however, highlight a very athletic and tone figure, showing her defined arms and abdomen. Through the thin fabric of the t-shirt you think you can make out what appears to be a chainmail bra underneath, though you can't confirm it without staring.

“My apologizes for these two getting away from me. I will escort them back to gate and make sure they will learn a lesson once we get back to the school.”

She speaks a few words in Spanish to the girls who give a quick bow and say, “Lo siento, señor,” though with a mischievous grin showing mere outward compliance.

The redhead pushes down her glasses to the edge of her nose and looks at you with her emerald eyes and asks, “Are we good?”