Balthier may not have known his way around Keeliai, but he did know his way around cities in general. You could plop him in the middle of a big city on the other side of the galaxy and by the time supper rolled around he'd be better acquainted with it's streets and customs than natives who'd resided there their entire lives.

Which was, essentially, what happened with Keeliai. And it was because Balthier frequented brothels.

And this one was the kind of establishment he liked. It was classy enough that the beer was good, the beds were clean, and its entrepreneurs of the oldest profession were pretty (or handsome). But it still had an edge to it - the liquor was sharp and tasted like paint thinner, and the gossip was good. It was, all around, his kind of establishment.

And as it turned out, he was exactly the kind of customer they liked. He paid upfront with no haggling when he wanted a quick tumble, he never drank to the point of blind drunkeness, he tipped handsomely, and was one of those foreigners who came with good stories.

It was when he was wrapping up a story about the time he and Fran got chased across the Estersands by a Saurian that he noticed a figure that seemed a bit too small to be hanging around.

Balthier avoided children like he avoided dire rats and for mostly the same reason. Kids were prone to all manner of pathogens that they may as well have been plague-carriers. The pirate frowned. He knew brothels took in orphans and foundlings sometimes, but it was rare it was to any altruistic end. He hoped that wasn't the case here, but he had to make sure.

"Bit young to be patronizing a house of ill-repute," he remarked, sliding Arya a hot chocolate.