[H3]Residential District - The Golden Gryphon[/h3]

Listening to what the bartender said, Tom's face contorted for a moment into mocked rage "Good sir! You're words, they wound me." His arm raced behind his back ad he reached for his coin purse, the small fabric bag came forward and he opened it in front of him with a deep sigh. "Seems some young souls have certainly given you cause to doubt the profession. I suppose you're not to be blamed, and damn if you don't put forward a compelling argument..." he shuffled through the various shards inside, trying to decide the best course of action. 

After a moment he looked up, slyly eyed the bartender, and produced from withing a silver bell. He placed it lightly on the table, and took the offered ale. "Let this stand as my deposit. You see what I've got, and you can make the decision from there: decide to keep me on, hand me my change for the drink, but if you think it a poor fit then the bell is yours."

He moved into an unoccupied area close to the bar, and surveyed the crowd. The man had spoken true, many of the patrons here seemed to stand far straighter than any common man usually would. For some that may prove daunting, but as Tom saw it no man could ever truly despise music and he was nothing if not a musician. He took a sip of ale and placed the glass on a nearby table. From his side he reached for his flute, and wet his lips. From the bartender's description it seemed something melodic and smooth would be the best course of action. Not something that would detract from the meal, but rather something almost imperceptible, something you could only hear when you wanted to.

As ever he began with a single note, low and strong, it would serve to draw the attention of interested parties while leaving those who weren't none the wiser. From there he began a tune. Quick and lively, but never loud. The pitch rose and fell almost without warning, yet still created a flowing sensation, and the tempo never dropped. With his trained ear, Tom heard the notes as they carried gently through the inn, the building providing an acoustic despite its manager deference to music. 

There were no words spoken on this tune, at least not as he played it now, and as he blew the final note he reached for the alE while looking expectantly towards the bar for a sign of whether to continue or not.