[T'Pol has long hair. Again. The universe wants it this way, clearly. She's smiling, and reclining in a chair, and if one sleeve is falling off her shoulder, she doesn't seem to notice it. Otherwise, she's dressed nicely, if a little loosely for the times.]

Gents - and ladies [that gets a small smirk] - when you get bored of Ms. Owens' lovely saloon, come on by the dance hall. We keep later hours own here at the Roadhouse, and our shows last till dawn. We've got all sorts to sate your appetites.

[There's some sound in the distance, and T'Pol shifts, straightening subtly. Somehow that sleeve gets back into place, and T'Pol gets up as a boy of about five, with blond hair shows up in the background. It's hard to hear, but one might catch a 'Mama.' She shuffles him back to another room, though, and there's a gentler smile before she disappears. Sorry for the dead space, but she comes back before long.]

Sorry about that, gents; I manage all manner of things around here. Remember, you can't miss our good dance hall: you passed it on the way into town. Be sure to give us a look in. [Her sleeve has managed to inch down again, and she's swung one leg up against the arm of the chair, skirt bunching just under her knee. Gasp, no stockings.] I swear you won't be disappointed.

((OOC: OKAY SO T'Pol's name is actually Pollyann - most just call her Pol. She's been in town for years, she owns the Roadhouse, which is a Burlesque house, which is most commonly just called a dance hall. Burlesque features a general strip tease, but there's also miming and risque retellings of famous plays, usually using horrible puns.))