Thanks for the therapy. An intoxicating voice, to be sure - almost as intoxicating as the body of the woman it belonged to - and that was somewhat odd, given that he was a Kiltharr. It wasn't often he had respectable clients, but he had to assume it meant that his skills were so advanced that people simply had to look past his race. Or perhaps this city was becoming less racist, but - that one was unlikely, from his experience. It did say something that even with one arm permanently bound in cloth, his aromatherapy was clearly the best this city had ever seen. And my, how they had all needed to relax when he got here! So many people had been eager to use his services that he had been able to rent a shop and become rather profitable for a time. Business was starting to slow finally, so it was getting to be time for the nomadic Kiltharr to move on. He had put off finding people who could help deal with his arm for long enough. He shifted his gaze back to his patron, left hand accepting the offered coins before he walked her to the door with a smile and a word of thanks. He also made sure to watch her as she left, not because he didn't trust her but because she had an extremely nice rear.
Even as he watched her leave, though, his mind came back to his arm. He was really at a loss for what to do with it - the only person he knew of that might be able to help was that wizard who had been at the top of the tower with him. Drakey, or something like that. And that particular wizard was rather dead, from what he could gather. So who was he supposed to find to deal with this? He couldn't exactly go up to a stranger and say 'Hey, so, get this! There was this Prime Evil intent on destroying the world and now I think there's a piece of it in my arm?'. No, that was a sure fire way to get himself killed, of that he was certain. Then again, maybe death was the answer. It would be far better for him to die then to unleash Decay on the world again, he knew. Unless it was his death that would unleash Decay from his arm? He had no way to know if it even -was- Decay or just a small fragment of the Prime's power, anyways! It was all so very frustrating, to say the least. So much so that his scowl had just driven off a potential customer, he just now noticed! He was vaguely aware that they had spoken to him, but by now the man was walking away in disgust. That's alright, he thought - he preferred the female customers anyways!
He forced a beaming smile on his face as he looked around, made sure his temporary ship sign was in place outside and moved back into his shop to stand against the far wall. The room was spacious, with shelves lining the wall on his left full of what looked to be different coloured oils. There was a padded table in the middle of the room for people to lie down on and a table in the corner with an oil lamp and a box of matches. The room was fairly sparse other then that and not very bright, the windows all had wooden shutters that were only partially open, to keep as much scent as could be inside when Stolatos was operating, likely. They also helped to keep prying eyes away, as someone would have to be above the window just to see in at all. There was a closed door to Stolatos' left that presumably led in to a back room of some sorts, though just what was there would be a mystery to most as he never opened it while people were around. As for the Kiltharr, he was currently in rather light clothes and looked to be entirely unarmed, at least of anything too large to be completely hidden within clothing. He stood quietly, waiting for a new patron to walk in.