Most people tend to give you a wide berth since you're busy hurling obscenities at them as if you weren't the cause of your own problems today. At least the weather's nice and you weren't assaulted on your walk to the bar, though you do notice lingering looks from men and pointed avoidance of your gaze from women. Seems in this backwater either your tastes aren't appreciated or they're just not talked about openly. Considering the state of the kingdom, with men holding ironclad positions of power using sex for dominance, the idea of a lady doing the same doesn't sit right with most.<br/><br/>As you approach the building you can't help but note that the owner, Rojer, seems to have made himself a rather tidy profit in the time you were gone. The thatch roof has been replaced with imported clay tiling and the windows upstairs have actual glass in them rather than simply being shuttered. There's even a somewhat burly man standing at the door with his thick arms crossed over his chest, glaring at people in the distance but keeping for the most part assorted rabble from entering. Business must be good if Rojer can afford to hire someone to turn away the ones who aren't worth it.<br/><br/>Seems that one of those ones is you as the man looks you up and down with a smirk. Perky tits and raised tail aside he doesn't see much paying customer in you and shakes his head as you approach.<br/><br/>"Coin only at the Dead Man's Drink slant, you'll have to head down to the docks if you think you're paying with that." his lip curled in a slight smirk, one blonde brow raised over a bright blue eye. His head was shaved and his arms and neck bore an assortment of tattoos and scars. Probably a sailor who found he preferred the shore.