As Ceria played with her newfound rodent friend, Racchus chuckled quietly. "See to it that ol' Chip there stay outside the bar, Missy," he enjoined Ceria. "Can't have the Health Inspector shuttin' us down now." With her 20 gold lying on the counter, Racchus raised an eyebrow. The following warning from Ulor combined with the extra gold pieces raised the eyebrow somewhat higher as a smile toyed at the corner of the tiefling's mouth. 

At Ary's comment, however, he spoke up again. "Ah, now that would be tellin', lass. The more you pay, the better the service I'll be sellin'. Think what you've paid is enough? Then go ahead and take the keys." Racchus reached behind the bar and produced a pair of cast-iron keys with a large wooden tag on them. The tag had the logo from the sign stamped on them, along with the numbers 1 and 3. "If'n you think that a little more sharing is in order, you are free to be addin' to the pile. I doubt any here would stop ya." 

When Yvah spoke up, Racchus let out a guffaw. "Yvah, you come back after all this time and ruin my fun, eh? Take the keys then, and I'll be holdin' onto yer gold for ya. Best rooms in the house for one of my own, and I'll be sure none on them boys be molestin" ya. Here that, Boys?" Racchus suddenly raised his voice, and the tavern fell deadly silent as every patron hung on the barkeep's dictation as if their lives depended on it. "These here be honored guests! You will lay down yer lives before anyone enters those rooms without my say-so!" The crowd muttered their acknowledgement as the sounds of the tavern picked up again. "I suggest you be headin' on up, now," Racchus added. "Ten hours are bought and paid for. Oh, and Fuzzball. Good to see ya again."