Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-25808351-20200326185554/@comment-28358106-20200326220128

The curtain partition that separated the entry from the lobby briefly swung to one side. As if he had done many times before, Dorian swept into the entrance, hand on the pommel of his sword in a casual, raffish way.

Whatever seediness was about him was gone; he was clean, his clothing was laundered and mended, his sash was new, his boots gleaming. The scent of expensive musk trailed him, but one had to be close enough to tell. His tribar was pushed back enough to show his easy, winning smile, which he showed just enough of.

Coming in behind him with less aplomb were Bailey and Juno. With her new clothes and lyre, Juno was more at ease, having been familiar with these types of establishments. Less enthusiastic was Bailey. She glowered at the scene in front of her; she wasn't fond of the ocean of false smells, as if everything was hidden behind soap and perfume.

With an easy gait, Dorian steps forward to the madame. With one hand he takes his hat off and holds it to his breast, giving her a smile.

"Gods' graces to you, madame. I hope the evening finds you well."

He gives a bow, holding out his hand if she should choose to take it, offering courtesy where it was due.