Sarah strings of proper behavior and etiquette are slowly being snapped away.  Left to her own devices, with her companions engaging with others in the room.   Sarah had been left with her cups of ale.   Now well into having gone through several of them.   That wild side of naughty nature that hidden underneath the feign surface of her appearance to the world  is beginning to crumble.   That nature, that if back home in the local tavern.  Where she is famous for giving hand jobs.   Where the folks come to unwind and let loose from the strife of daily life.  Not like here, where people are strangers.   A forced politeness that seems to be invoked.<br/><br/>The buxom Sarah would raise up, a bit tipsy and unsteady.  As the number of cups affect her.   As a need to liven up what she sees as a stifling boring place.    As she would draw attention upon herself.  As she calls out.<br/><br/><em>"Tis a bit stuffy in here, is there not a minstrel about to bring some gaiety of music.  Come dance loosen up."</em><br/><br/>She would call for, as her eyes roved the other gathered patrons.  Which had herslowly spinning.  Her state of inebriation having her evidently wobbly.   Nevertheless, she is looking for a partner to drag out of his seat to dance with.    Of course her words a slurred from the cups of ale.  An adding to the effect is her unbound hair that splashed down  over her shoulders and down her back.