human
Doan:  Doan leads Tinasha to the tavern.
gpt
Doan:  They arrive at the tavern, where the dim lighting conveniently concealed Tinasha’s beauty. It was dinnertime, so they ordered some light food. The sound of glasses tinkling and low murmurs filled the space. They could hear a fair number of conversations about the song in question. Namely, people wondering what exactly was this song that killed its listeners.
human
Tinasha:  Dumbfounded, the witch rested her chin on her hands.
gpt
Doan:  Looking up from his salted fish. "Almost time.”
human
Tinasha:  “Have a defense spell at the ready, just in case. If it’s not magic, I’ll handle it.”
gpt
Doan:  “Understood.”
human
Doan:  A woman with all the charm someone in the prime of adulthood could carry appeared onstage. Her features were not outstandingly beautiful, but her dark sensuality was eye-catching. She looked around the crowd, smiling in gratitude, before drawing her right leg slightly behind her. She took a deep breath in and stood up straight.