[center][b]Golden River Inn[/b] [color=00FF00][b]Sheng Qingling[/b][/color][/center] [@Salsa Verde] [@Restalaan] When Qingling finished his song, a coin flew his way. His eyes traced the trajectory and saw a large woman leaving the inn. he thanked her silently for her patronage as another woman approached the stage and asked him what the song is called. [color=00FF00]"'The Desperate Return',"[/color] Qingling replied, smiling up at Shi, trying to mask his own heartache, [color=00FF00]"Perhaps it is a bit too somber? After all, most people at an inn are travelers, so it may be inconsiderate to elicit homesickness. Additionally, for an inn with such...rambunctious clientele, maybe something more rowdy and rousing would be more appropriate? Do you have a request, Miss? I may not know every song, but if you hum a bit for me, or whistle, I will try to match the composition with what little skill I have."[/color] As Qingling waited for Shi's request, he started making micro-adjustments to the individual bridges that held the strings taut, literally fine-tuning the instrument in preparation for whatever he might play next.