In the hallway, the dancer continues to pace softly about, silk scarves fluttering from her slim arms as she rubs her hands to keep them warm.  She's trying not to<i>obviously</i>eavesdrop, but so far she can only wonder how petty the lives of the rich must be.  She glances up momentarily at the guardsman who'd practically propositioned her... she's beginning to think that might be the only valuable way to spend this evening, as at least it would bring a little coin and she'd be reasonably sure that she's not to be part of an experiment.