"Hey, pretty stranger,' a female troll with a gap in her wolf teeth calls out to Frank, "Those young ones don't look like they know what they're doing. My lodge is open for 'barter' " She gestures to the small 'boudoir/shack' she's arranged. It smells of improperly applied perfume, cheap perfume.
Two gaunt men eye them, appraising the strengths of those that come in.