[Quiet Man Cometh]

Just a shade past the polite hour for evening drinks a lady entered opened the bar doors and stood at the entrance for a while, eyes drifting and taking measure of the place. Her hands were in silk gloves and her feet could not been seen beneath the folds of her elaborate gown. There was enough fabric hanging superfluously about to make another, more revealing dress.

Releasing the door, she absently lifted her gown a little to glide directly for the bar, where she removed her gloves and laid a small, collapsible handfan on the table before looking for the nearest bartender.