As Cyra gyrated and flashed her lithe and revealing form within the common room, she could feel the rising excitement from her predominately male audience.  All eyes were focused on her while loud clapping and stomping sounds resounded in the air as she gave it her all, her dazzling and energetic performance.  The clanking sounds of coins coming from the direction of her waiting bowl momentarily distracted the pretty xeph but it did not diminish her skillful display of her dance.  When it finally ended the common room erupted in hooting cheers, praising her.<br/><br/>After gracefully thanking them and excusing herself, and picking up earnings, she heads for Skowls, to settle with her lodging arrangements only to be prevented when a firm, grasping hand took hold of one of her arms and almost jerked her to a stop.  The offending hand’s owner, a bearded human in his late thirties or early forties and clad in leather armor offered Cyra a toothy grin and a face that obviously read that he was up to no good.<br/><br/>“Hey girl, nice show you did there.  I’m not much with fancy words but when I see something nice, like what you did, I much like,” he says, as his gaze wanders over her, “…and more.”<br/><br/>Simon seems to notice the scene unraveling across the room but whether he would decide to involve himself with the dancer’s situation that has yet to be seen.  But before he could do anything the view before him was blocked by the appearance of dark-skinned youth, hanging on with a wooden tray before him.  When he spoke his voice was meek.  “Can I get your order, dear sir?”<br/><br/><hr/><br/>In spite of the brewing trouble, Cyra earn a hefty 12 gp worth of coins!  Not too shabby.<br/>