"Oh dear" begins the Matre D, that's the third Swampsac "that's gotten in the pipes this month alone." she motions to a mercenary leaning arms crossed against the rear of the restaurant. "Take care of it for me, you might want to take a mop too, those Swampsacs can be pretty messy eaters."<br/><br/>The armed mercenary picks up her spear and a mop, and enters the bathroom . Ora can hear the sounds of exertion from inside the lavatory, as the private warrior engages in her clean-out effort.<br/><br/>The Matre D returns her dignified gaze to Ora. "Now, thank you for your assistance with our kitchen, and now for letting us know about our bathroom incident... the Roasted Pleasure thanks you for your discretion, but I must insist that you be on your way now. Our establishment prides itself on its dress-code, and we cannot have your unkempt appearance making customers think our standards have fallen. Please feel free to return when you have bathed, and aquired some more... fitting attire."<br/><br/>She guides Ora back down the stairs past the roasting girl on the central cooking pit, and back out to the decoratively gilded front doors. The brunette on the spit has already turned beet red over the flickering fire. and it wouldn't be long before she was a golden brown like the ones in the window. She screams into the metal rod, her teeth scraping along its length, as sweaty juices sip from her pores and drip from her roasting body. her puckered anus squeezes against the other end of the pole as it slips inside her when she struggles. It looks like an agonising way to die to Ora. But that's the fate of the homeless or orphaned in Genkysou village.<br/><br/>Ora walks out into the street with a jingling at her hip, a full stomach, and an empty bladder. The sun is high in the cloudless blue sky, and she has money in her coin-purse, and the bitter remains of adrenaline in her veins. Her skin is still caked in dirt and grime from the forest, but there's a grin on her face.<br/><br/>After all, shopping awaits.