Talk to the woman at the bar

She is a beautiful woman, covered with makeup. Her bodice barely covers her nipples; her areola are peeking out of the top, and obviously rouged. Her skirt is scandalously short, and, predictably, green to show that she is willing to roll around in the grass.

"Welcome to the Dove," she says, with a warm smile. "Would you like to sit down and get more comfortable?" The woman gestures to a stool at the bar. The stool looks almost nice enough to fit in at the palace.

You nod, and sit down. feeling like a wood-nymph cornered by a man: petrified.