At first the blood elf had been confused by the laughter of the pair of goblins that had so helpfully pointed him towards the tavern on the lower docks. He had found the name very appealing "<i>The Bobbing Head</i>" he thought to himself "<i>Sounds like just the place for music lovers</i>." He had thought that the sign had been appealing if expected, given the unfortunate circumstance to see it at midday completely missing the suggestive shadows playing on the nearby wall. He even thought that the bouncers outside were a nice touch given that it had been built in such a rambunctious port. But as he took the first few steps inside of the establishment his cheeks took on a stark blush, eyes shooting wide as he watched after a plump goblin waitress, the anal beads hanging from her bottom just barely dragging along the ground as she took careful steps not to catch them on a loose plank.<br/><br/>He stood out like a sore thumb quite literally with his red velvet swallowtailed jacket, black cotton hose and dress shoes. The thick book hanging at his hip began to tremble with him just slightly as he clenched more tightly on to his violin's case and started to make his way through the room. His brightly glowing eyes darted back and forth as with each odd step a floorboard would creak to hopelessly be drowned out by the nearby moaning or laughter of the taverns patrons. Though he was not new to such sights he was a little shocked at how well this tavern rivaled even the most scandalous parties he had played in Silvermoon.<br/><br/>His tension faded, if only slightly, as he approached the bar and the stocky dwarf manning it flashes him a smile. "<span style="color: #663300">What'll it be lad?</span><span style="color: #808080">" The man asks in a gruff tone to which the Sin'dorie responds to with a grin and a quick nod before looking up and over the prices written at the bar. Though he was clearly uncomfortable he was also prideful and to flee from such an establishment seemed a poor show or both stomach and bravado. So he merely raised his hand to point at the displayed menu, he sighs slightly as Fergus responds with a blank stare and the elf raises his hand once more. He points to a nearby brazier and then to the bottles lining the wall, he does this several more times before Fergus finally snaps his thick fingers "</span><span style="color: #663300">Auch! Ye' want some o' the firewine? Why didn' ye' jes' say so lad!</span><span style="color: #808080">" This time it was Merisiri who's stare went blank, sighing again as he takes from his coinpurse a few silver minted with with delicately crafted firehawks only to be given in return a few dinged copper coins in return. He sneers slightly at the nicked and scratched currency as he tucks it away, sets his violin on the bar, and then turns around leaning back against the bar with one elbow on it as he sipped at his wine. It was all so crude, tacky, dirty, disgusting, and without a doubt fervently arousing.</span><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>