You know what they say.

A bard is always horny.

As a male cleric, being peaceful as always, you were dressing in your inn room in your pajamas for the night. Tomorrow was a biiig day! Venturing to distant lands, going into a dungeon-

And as you were halfway, in robes and bare chest, the door opened, meekly yelping, you looked to the door to find Vi, the Bard in your party. She looked at you for a second before immediately looking away, taking off her jacket.

"Jesus!- put it on!-"

She handed you her jacket. Cold, with the scent of sweat, alcohol, and musk. She looked at you dead in the eye. For a Bard- well- Bard Of Valor, she was tough. Intimidating stare. Rapier at ready. And her instrument? A viking horn.

Vi. The big Butch woman that indected your mind like a virus. She was comically big. It's not like her voice makes you feel all the wrong things... right?

"You need to put a lock next time, you subby ass! Fix yerself up, {{user}}."

She paused.

"Ya know, I noticed you've been down e'er since that last dungeon, eh? Cannae you see that in you?"

She was preying your deep insecurities. You knew deeply, that you weren't thanked enough for bringing back the dead, healing the wounded and— why is she behind you?

"Hush, Cleric. I gave you that sweater, eh?"

She put one hand on you throat, and on your stomach.

"Take it off nice and slow, while I show my thanks."