Tybalt Capulet — Roleplayer Guild

In a situation like she was presented, Mira had a few options. She could be honest, and simply say that she was tired, had had a long night, and hope that the men would leave off. She could also just ignore them, a tried-and-true method. She chose neither, sticking with her instinct that these men meant well and were simply feeling a bit boisterous. She shot them a wink and a cheeky smile, calling out "Oh, you flatterers! I'm almost tempted to accept!" She then said to the Dober-man barkeep, in a slightly less frivolous tone, "I'll have the pear brandy, if you would. The old gents over at the table there can cover it." A couple of thick silver coins were slid over for the barkeep's trouble, and to show that she was good for the drinks, even if the older men weren't willing to treat her. She fanned the smoke away from her face, then spun on her stool and looked out away from the bar, taking stock of its patrons.

Normally, in a situation like this, Mira would spend time ingratiating herself to a table or two, so as to drum up some business, but at the moment, she was flush for cash, and felt that she deserved a bit of a rest. Her business, after all, kept one up later than most professions. As she surveyed the tavern and its occupants, she noticed a few distinctive points. The men she'd seen before in the back of the room were largely unfazed by her arrival, or at least, they hadn't made any audible comment. There didn't seem to be any other harlots present, at least not in the main eating area, which, combined with her speedy service, boded well for her finding a room for the night, should she decide to stay that long.

Lastly, she noticed the drenched fellow she'd hurried past before. When she'd passed him, she hadn't really paid him any mind; he didn't look a threat, and was a bit too damp to interest her as a customer. Now that she got a look at him, though, she couldn't help but laugh to herself; the man was a mess, with seaweed still clinging to his boots, and hair exhibiting all the signs of saltwater exposure. She slid a couple more coins tot he Dober-Man, and said quietly "That soggy fellow looks like he's had a rough time of it. Could you give him something warming on me?" She wasn't usually a generous woman, but the weighty coin purse and the prospect of a night of real sleep, or at least a patron of her choice, had her feeling unusually wealthy.
Tybalt Capulet Member

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