The new entretainer coughed and gripped the hand firmly, before reaching in his pocket for the key he had been given, and picked up the various bags and instruments he had brought in. His shoes once again clinked against the floor,  before he vanished upstairs.

His room was nice, it had to be said. The bed was bigger than a single, but not quite a double, and there were somehow electrical sockets. He supposed that the multi-dimensional quality of the tavern meant it would be an amalgamation of different tech, but it was still strange to see.

He unzipped the suitcase and rustled around for first his hygiene bag, next his formal clothing; the boss had asked to see a performance, so he would have to comply.

When he walked down, he was clean-shaven, and his hair had been trimmed slightly.  In one of his hands he was holding a trumpet, the metal polished and shiny, seemingly slightly glowing within the light. The mouthpiece wasn't on it yet, but he had it in his pocket, and lightly adjusted his waistcoat. 

He pulled a bar stool to a clear space and sat down, experimentally fiddling to make sure he needed no grease or oil, before slipping the mouthpiece in and taking a breath, wondering what he would play even as he set the instrument to his lips.