It was dark, the moon peering down at her, and she'd not yet had a good laugh, drink, or romp. Something was wrong. And so, to rectify that, Bresthra made her way to one of the more crowded taverns. Her things had been taken care of, hidden rather well and guarded by a lovely little tomb mote who would have no qualms biting and eating anyone should the need arise. That meant she walked into some tavern she didn't even bother looking at the name, and immediately surveyed what she had to work with.
Bresthra was rather curvy, and what's more, busty, for her race. Hell, for any race. To a room full of drinkers in varying degrees of being drunk, Bresthra was usually exactly what they wanted to see. The black skin and red eyes didn't matter when one was too far gone to know what a Drow was actually renown for. And Bresthra's curvy figure was not the only thing that set her apart from the usual. She was perfectly happy playing to the drunken charms of workmen, business men, merchants... well, anyone that was rather interesting. As a priestess of Sharess, that nearly meant anyone that had enough wit to pretend to charm and seduce her.
But... as Bresthra surveyed the crowd, there was an insistent voice whispering in the back of her mind. While half of her was rather thrilled at the prospects she saw tonight, a part of her was not. A first. She knew why, but tried to put it out of her mind. A drink... no, several drinks... and she'd not be able to pay attention to that nag. Her eyes landed on a group of drunk men. Humans, moderately wealthy by their dress. Clean. Shaved. The perfect place for her to start. By the raucous laughter from the table, the men were well merry and on their way to blissful and complete intoxication. Just how she liked them.
Bresthra made her way through the crowd, managing to brush against a man or two. Potential candidates if this didn't go so well. And by the looks she knew that followed her, she'd have a couple back up plans.
This man and his friends didn't notice her until Bresthra leaned on the table, gave them one of her best smiles, and eyed the biggest one of them. "Could I trouble you for a drink?" He didn't even look at her face. His eyes had stopped on the swell of her chest, rather artfully presented to him as she leaned. All part of the game. His friends, all three, had stopped to consider and eye her. As the first man had, their gaze lingered on her cleavage. In the span of a breath, the man declared he would. Much to the enjoyment of his friends. As she'd thought, they were already silly. So when one of his friends, the closest, gripped her hips and pulled her into his lap, she went with a giggle and shifted to make herself comfortable.
In no time at all, Bresthra's laughing was as loud as the men's. Her flirting was as wicked as theirs, and she was moved from lap to lap. All in good sport. She'd have free drinks for the whole evening, and if one of these men felt up to the task of walking, perhaps she'd even have company. And that nagging voice drowned in the alcohol she consumed.