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Kret spits her drink at that, spilling ale over her cloak and onto his tanned, muscled chest. The bard, however, grabs a kerchief and dabs at his skin, his expression not changing as he awaits her response.

"S-sorry!" she gasps, waving her hands. "I am so sorry! Please forgive me."

"It is no trouble, at all. But if you wish to make less of a scene," he begins, standing up from the table, "perhaps you should take me up on that offer?"

So, with head hung low and feeling the burning gazes of sympathizers and scorners, Kret follows him, keeping her hood over her head to conceal herself, although it will do her no good, being the only kobold among a sea of humans.

It's the story of her life...

Sooner than she realizes, she climbs the stairs and enters into a private room. Though modestly furnished, even having a private chamber is a luxury in such a backwoods town as this. When the latch on the door slides against the lock, it slams with a certain finality that produces a lump in the kobold's throat. This lump only grows as the bard walks past her, pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside. Kret's eyes widen as she takes in the muscles on the bard's back. Though he is no fighter, his form is still chiseled, as if a master artist had created a master work right before her.

A drawer closes and Kret shakes her head. Once back in reality, she sees that he has slipped another, clean shirt in the place of the soiled one. "You're not going to keep wearing that stained cloak in here, are you? Please, make yourself comfortable as I listen to your tale." He motions to the bed as he pulls out a chair in front of a small writing desk.

Kret gulps and fumbles at the clasp of her cloak for a moment,while he reaches into his desk and pulls out a piece of parchment. She unclasps the hook as he dips his quill into the inkwell, and she drops her cloak to the floor once he begins to jot something down. Absently sticking her tongue out once more, she climbs up onto the human-sized bed and collapses onto it, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe if she doesn't look at him, things will go better?

"Begin wherever you will, my little friend," the bard says. I shall take notes, and who knows, perhaps you shall be the subject of my next piece?"

Her heart thumps harder, imagining his beautiful voice making a lovely ode to her suffering, turning her into a tragic hero. With a sigh, she spins him her tale.

"I have always been alone. From my earliest memories, I have lived among beings very different from myself. At first, I faced scorn for being a short little lizard person, but soon enough, I learned to accept their stares. I found myself work, good work, as a seamstress. It was good, for a time... until the pay couldn't keep up. I had to take night work in a," she pauses, closing her eyes, "different field. That is, until the magic in my blood manifested." She shivers, clutching her chest. "I didn't mean to hurt anyone, but... I could never be there, ever again.

"I eventually found manor that would accept me as a worker, but the work was hard, and the payment next to nothing. As I lay in the sewers, contemplating my life, I became very close to offering myself as a slave. As a free person, I struggled, yet as someone's property, I would at least be fed and cared for.

"But my boss had other plans for me. He sent me out on an expedition with adventurers. Finally, the magic in my blood could be put to good use, yet..." She rolls on her side, curling up and shaking her head."The mission failed, and... we went our separate ways, leaving me with just a tiny bit of gold, and stuck in a tavern in the middle of nowhere. And now, here I am."

The scratching of the quill stops and the bard asks her, "And, did you find any treasures in your adventures? Something unique and powerful?"

She shook her head. "I wish. No, I'm just a poor and lonely kobold girl, unloved, unfulfilled, and uninteresting."

"I see..." the bard says. The chair scoots back, and Kret hears his boots drop to the floor. She rolls around and looks up toward him, gasping as he sits on the edge of the bed. "I had no idea, but allow me, little friend, to not leave a kobold girl unfulfilled."

Her jaw drops wide and her eyes nearly bulge out of her as she scoots to sit up. "Y... you can't possibly..."

He smirks, his mustache quirking upwards in that alluring way as he unlaces his new shirt.

Kret pulls her legs up, wrapping her arms around them as she watches, enraptured as he tugs this shirt up over his head, well-toned muscles exposed before her, followed by that wild mane of black hair. She gulps as he crawls forward now, his weight pushing the bed downward. She tumbles back, laying there with him hovering just above her. "I never noticed how beautiful those scales of yours are..." he begins, "a vibrant green, and..." he reaches out for her top, pulling her collar down just slightly. "And that lovely wine. And such a fine texture as well. I must see more." His strong eyes stare into hers, and something screams in joy as she slowly cracks a smile. Reaching down, she grabs the bottom of her top and gently pulls it up, exposing before him her flat, red underbelly.

Not a moment after the shirt obscures her vision, he goes in for the attack, leaning in and placing kisses at her abdomen and up along her sensitive scales. Kret gasps into her shirt, writhing around at the feeling of the warm lips, the tingle of his mustache and beard, the attention to detail on her body. It's so... wonderful!