A stocky old gent with a twinkle in his eye and blond hair perked up and looked in Naja's direction. Hmm. Cat person, don't see many of those...

"And who might you be, young lady?" he asked, in a profoundly bass voice that boomed through the space between them. "And what sort of arrangement might you be interested in?"

Around the place, gypsies did gypsy things. Some sang, some played instruments, some danced, some hammered away at their workshops. It was a very industrious little place - or so it appeared on the surface.