Fredirick Solo Fights

She snorts slightly. Aren't you just the silver-tongued devil. How's your luck at the tables been so far? She asks, somewhat mollified by your apology and compliment (real or not).

Oh, I'm not much of a gambler. I'm a watcher. Help to keep the riffraff from flipping tables and assaulting guests. Not glamorous, but plenty of cash and a chance to knock some heads. Why, you interested in a lady with silvers to spare?

The woman snorts at you a bit. Well, like I said, we get paid well, but I'm not looking to give that wealth to a customer. Better to spend it on my own luxuries.

She leans in close to you. "Strong liquor and stronger men." Her smile is feral.

Roll a perception check, please.

You just barely notice a stance shift in the two other folks you spotted with the same rapiers. Not hostile or moving yet, but they are definitely now watching you.

You do not.

There is a staircase leading upstairs along the back wall.

As you come up the stairs, you see a dim hallway. There's doors down each side, with a variety of sounds emanating from behind their oaken faces. At the far end of the hall is a single gilded door, with a pair of thugs standing out front.

Their arms go out, hitting your chest.

Patron's ain't allowed in the offices. Get yer arse back down the stairs before we move it there.