I rather think that Fen's a bit old to be much of a fetishist, but if you were to ask him what sort of woman was wont to turn his head in his rowdier days, it might go like the following.
"Och, a fine question that," he might say, "'I can think of no color of hair nor tone of skin that does provide aught of commonality betwixt the women I did set my course to. But in troth... well, there is much to be said for the subtle confidence; carriage and poise speaking of one who knows her worth to the point that she needs not advertise't or proclaim it. To be ne'er boastful, nor clutching, but simply to know, and expect others to know."
Contemplating further, he might nod, "Aye, and pair that with a wit and elegance... to be ne'er bawdy nor lewd, but skilled in the game of word-bandy and half-smiles, words a carry and riposte. Indeed! Ah, I have been fortunate to have known a few so o'er these many years, a few indeed." A bit of a grin would slowly break over his sun-darkened and lined face at the thought.
But then he might fix his gaze on you, and look you directly in the eye and say, "But an you'll know't, an there's one thing no wandering fellow such as I can e'er keep our eye from...? Setting aside his cup, he would lean close, as if to admit you to a secret known only to the itinerant bard, "'tis the ing?nue in peril. For we are steeped in songs of courtly love and tales of beautiful maids in need of heroing, and we can ne'er give o'er when faced with one. Ah, to couple that with a secret spark of fire 'neath the coquettish smile, why ?tis the secret heart?s desire of any bard. Indeed, a terrible and most terrible, efficacious combination 'gainst fellows such as I."
Then he'd nod and lean back in his seat, taking up his teacup again before continuing, "How fortunate I am, that such days of lass-stoked fire in the veins are past! Ne'er again to be a ship launched 'gainst the perilous rocks of the imperiled ing?nue..."
And settling back in his seat, he might turn away to gaze at the fire, and in those grey eyes you could catch a roguish crinkle of remembrance, and a sly quirk of a smile as if to say he'd not mind it so much, finding himself ship-board, his sails set full for such a destination once again.
