Rosalynn: Some of the men show some interest in you, though the only one who starts a "hey baby" sort of comment recieves a look from Ron that withers whatever the planned line was to "um, welcome to the pits...." There are three other women in the room. Two were sparring with each other when you first walked in and have paused to look at you and whisper in a way that makes you think of nothing more than vain girls at a ball discussing the newest debutant. They are an odd sort of pair, one an elf with golden red hair and fair skin, who is wearing "armor" that could be mistaken for conviniently placed gold jewlery, and the other, at first glance, a dark elf with similar armor of silver. At second glance you realize the "dark elf" is actually a human with skin blackened by some sort of paint and hair bleached and colored to approximate the whiteness of the drow. Touched up before a bout, it probably suffices from the seats of the arena.
The third woman is a human, well muscled and unarmored (though covered significantly better than the other two by her plain knee length trousers and vest) who is sparring with a male gladiator. She is armed with a simple quarterstaff and accompanies its stikes with summersualting kicks and occasional flips out of range of the other fighter's sword. It's hard to say if she has even noticed you yet, she seems quite intent on her practice.