Ayaka poured herself another glass of sake before slamming the glass down and wiping her mouth with the back of a perfectly manicured, clawed hand. "Right." She pushed herself off the stool and sauntered over to the two girls. Caramel tail swishing languidly to and fro behind her. Despite being a heavy drinker and having spent the last three days praying to deities she frankly couldn't give two shits about she carried herself exceptionally well. She walked with a straight back full of pride and confidence, the sway of her body told of a woman who was confident in her sexuality (despite lack of).

"Now - how can I *ahem* help you?" She repeated.

The taller girl seemed intimidated, or at the very least struggled with Tradespeak - Ayaka couldn't fault her for that, the barbaric tongue was fuckin' hard. Gross. Her words were vague at best.

"Sweetheart," Ayaka began with a condescending tone. "I ain't a costume shop. Frankly, if those racist pricks gon' give you hell I can give you a poison. Which would you prefer? Have them bleed from the inside out or have their skin melt off?"

Oh..

She didn't take that too well. She mumbled and looked rather startled. What? Ayaka wasn't threatening them. She was threatening the people who were being racist. The very people they were about to go and do some dangerous shit with. If anything Ayaka should be praised for her solution. The smaller of the woman stepped in, and clarified what they wanted.


Oh! The short one was a decent conversationalist, looks like they'd get somewhere after all. And here Ayaka thought she'd have to break into interpretive dance to get through to the timid tall one. "Ya know- its a good thing I know Tradespeak, few round here do, 'sides the tavern owners and a few shrine maidens. Aren't you just the luckiest fuckin' girls in the world?"

"I'm not going to turn down payin' custo-" She batted the wandering hand of the taller elf woman away. Oh yes, Ayaka saw it. Long, slender fingers dancing and twitching as they edged ever closer to her.

Before she could continue the conversation with the odd couple they were interrupted by yet another who had entered her store. Before. Fucking. Opening. Time. Her shoulders rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, a pitiful attempt at anger management.

"What the fuck is this?" Ayaka mumbled to herself, quite rightly interrupted. "Is there an Aleran convention nearby? Ya'll dropping in from the circus?" Her yellowed eyes narrowed as they stared at the newcomer. He wore a plain black Jacket, probably poor as balls. He was more or less unassuming, typical of his race he had long silver hair. His skin glimmered softly in the reflection of the early morning sun. A gentle azure, much like his eyes. Ah - but Ayaka could give zero shits about any of that. "Just stay lurkin' in the shadows there old man." His soul was like a fuckin' onion. Old, layered. "I'll deal with you next."

Ugh.

Stupid beings with their multi-century lifespans.

Ayaka turned back to the two woman, the actual customers. "Right..." She grinned as she slapped her hands together. "What do you two lovely young lasses wanna look like? Grow a pair, loose a pair? Blonde, Brunette, maybe ya wanna get a dick and go for a swing around town after your shady business?"