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"Where do you think I hired them?" he chuckles. "Though, some are Arsheans too..." he adds, then winks and grins like a wolf. "You've got a rather low opinion of lady Pathfinders, then," she replies, after another swig of ale. "Or is this the makings of some twisted fantasy of yours?" she asks, her face taking on an icky expression. "You thinkin' we're going to start humpin' each other over the bar or somethin'?"
Elbows on the bar, the blonde Galtan is obviously no stranger to mugs of ale. "Oh, there oughta be plenty of interesting people who drift by, but desirable?" she tilts her head in the direction of the spectacled mongrel. "You're gonna be buying a lot of drinks for little benefit." "Of course, ladies... they're also trained in other arts. In case no one who wanders in catches your lovely eyes." "What kinda place are you runnin' here? The Salon girls know about this?"
"No fightin'? All weapons'll be peacebonded? Troublemakers? The 'ell kind'a shag pub is this?" The lady eagerly snaps up a free bitter ale is a vision of a dirty blonde, an elegant avatar of grit and trouble. Her hair is in a simple ponytail, and her delicate frame is perfectly veiled by a shirt and pants. "Thank'ya for the drink, dear, but by 'everyone,' you seem to have caught two of us. Sounds like the boys saw the 'No Animals' rule and moved on." |
