The next day, the sleep-deprived Dwarf and Mage were both yawning. Only the poet was full of energy, playing his lute to amuse the maid, Little Coal Ball. Somehow, Freddy had even managed to make her giggle.
"Hey, my teammates, how was your three-man night in the basement?"
'That's a weird way to put it...' Rorschach ignored him and dragged out the soundly sleeping Kraup. The Dwarf had discovered a more efficient use for the knockout drug—mixing it with strong Pirate's Rum and pouring an entire bottle down Mr. Klaup's throat.
"Not as well as you, O great poet. You're certainly carefree." Rorschach, who had been on watch for half the night, yawned. It was gloomy outside, making it impossible to tell day from night. He pulled out his pocket watch. Ten in the morning.
