"What's this?"

The festivities are loud, but not so much you miss the lilting melody of a man calling out to you. Turning, you see as a handsome, bearded man with horns peeking from a mass of curls pulls away from the crowd to inspect your body. As he steps closer, you notice his goat legs, telling you what you already suspected. Satyr.

"What sort of lovely mortal goes without a lover in such a time as this?"