Time starts up again.

"That's right," says the gypsy, still advancing on you. "You're going to give me everything you've got, and if you don't have enough, well, maybe we'll just have a look at-"

"Nice tits," you say.

She looks down at her state of undress and comes to a dead stop, the haughty expression vanishing from her face, to be replaced by a mixture of astonishment and terror. The gathered crowds are looking at her. For a moment she can't think of a clever response.

"You look better that way," you say, grinning at her in a way that she must find supremely irritating. "You should go around naked all the time. Maybe you could dance for us. That would be a real gypsy carnival."

She squeals and falls to her knees, covering her small breasts with an arm while she pats the ground around her, looking for a dagger. People are coming out of the tavern to see what all the commotion is about. "You did this," she hisses at you through gritted teeth. "What are you? Some kind of sorcerer?"

"I'm just a humble traveller. I have no idea where your clothes went. Maybe some kind of curse?"

"I'll slay you for this, warlock! Nobody insults the honour of a gypsy and lives to see the next morning!"

The other gypsies aren't helping her, you notice. Mostly what they seem to be doing is pointing and laughing. You hold up the dagger where she can see it.

"Give that back! I'll kill you with it!"

She leaps to her feet and springs toward you, momentarily heedless of how it exposes her flashing bare buttocks and the tangle of dark hair between her legs. Her dark liquid eyes brim with fury and her mahogany hair flies in all directions. She's like a pouncing tiger, a creature of uncontrollable wrath, and it would probably be scary if she was armed and clothed. Naked, it's a little ridiculous. You laugh in her face and slow down time again.