A/N: Mysterious things happened to this document between being a Word document and being uploaded, and I didn't check it till now. Heh. Anyway, thanks to everyone who has left comments, and more are always welcome:)

The Captain

"I'm bored," I whined, fidgeting while Sand gave me a disapproving look.

"My dear girl, this is the first time I am asking a favour from you, despite having made your acquaintance for the past eight months. Your incessant complaints are really quite unnecessary," the elf said, deftly decanting a bubbling blue liquid into a bottle with nary a pause in his words.

"It's hot, it's boring and it's not like I even use these! Get Qara to do this! She's the one who guzzles most of our potions," I sounded profoundly sulky, and I didn't care. Right on cue, another puff of steam rose from the flask I was stirring, and I huffed in displeasure.

"The idiot girl simply wouldn't do, and you know it," he surveyed the neatly stacked rows of bottles with a satisfied smirk, and returned to measuring out another round of ingredients. I groaned inwardly when he took out the beetle glands. By the Gods, I would be shocked if I could still smell anything after this was over.

"I'm just the unskilled labour here anyway," when he looked over, I stuck my tongue out at him. "It hardly takes more than half a brain to stir a solution!"

"Our favourite pyromaniac would merely demolish my laboratory in an attempt to demonstrate her power, and that would be…undesirable. Besides, for what it's worth, you are the only one capable of understanding my instructions, and not mixing up belladonna extract with scorpion venom."

I sighed, and concentrated on tinkling out a tune against the edge of the flask. At least the potions had really pretty colours.

Six hours later

"And that's the last batch. Do sit up straight, Yun, otherwise you will fall off the chair, which will result in both the ranger and the paladin trying to eviscerate me for not taking care of their lady love."

I pushed myself off the table, and glared at him. "Very funny, Sand. I'm absolutely cracking up."

"Tsk tsk. That was terribly unsubtle. I expected better of you."

"Whatever." I slumped down onto the table again, foggily watching the liquids swirling in the bottom of the flasks. Pretty…

I hadn't realized that I had said it out loud until Sand said, "You could keep the leftovers as a souvenir, and probably as a reminder to you to never agree with anything I say again."

Idly, I touched my finger to the lip of one of the bottles. The traces of liquid clinging to the rim were a lovely shade of pink, but when it dried and I tried to scrape it off, it stayed on my fingertip stubbornly.

I smiled a little then, and repressed the urge to snicker. "Yes, please. The leftovers would be a lovely souvenir."

Casavir sat up with difficulty and fell over sideways, his blanket slowly unraveling and dumping him onto the floor in stages. He stared up at the ceiling for several minutes, attempting to focus his eyes. It was later than he had ever woken up, judging by the light, far too late for the morning devotions. He supposed that this was how a hangover felt, although he had no memory of getting drunk.

With a groan, he sat upright, and with further effort, pulled himself off the floor. His head felt like…a fluffy, pink thing. That was something she would have said. Come to think of it, she had been behaving quite strangely at dinner last night…

The Captain

When Casavir entered the dining room where we all habitually ate together, I shot him a sideways glance while eating a piece of freshly baked bread. He nodded at me gravely, sat down impassively and began smearing butter on a slice of toast. I couldn't help but watch him out of the corner of my eye, but he remained completely neutral.

Khelgar staggered in a few minutes later, still in his nightshirt. "Ugh. I need some coffee." He stared at me for a moment, eyes bleary with sleep, before grabbing the pitcher of coffee and drinking straight from it, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it had been boiling all of two minutes ago.

I saw Bishop lurch down the hallway towards the washroom, I giggled before I could stifle it, and cleared my throat ostentatiously to cover it up. Casavir turned to give me a long, piercing look then, and I blushed and industriously nibbled my bread.

There was a long silence, during which Khelgar carefully put down the pitcher and subsequently stretched himself out on the floor. His breathing slowly evened out, and progressed to small snores.

"What in the Nine Hells!!" and a long series of expletives from the direction of the washroom broke the silence. There was the sound of something being thrown hard against the bathroom door, presumably, and moments later, Bishop came stalking into the dining room, eyes glittering dangerously. He was barefoot and shirtless, and the dark circles under his eyes and his tousled hair indicated that he was in the same state as the rest of my companions were. His coppery eyes raked across the room, coming to rest on me. I was trying very hard to look innocent, but I don't think that it was working.

"Why," he asked in a deceptively calm voice, "are my toenails pink and shiny?"

Bishop

She tried to repress the smile, but made a muffled squeak, then tried to disguise it with an unconvincing cough. She looked at me with that somewhat guilty, but gleeful look, and I dragged her out of her chair.

"I didn't do it!" by now she was concentrating on looking innocent, and she looked angelic but the mischievous look in her eyes told me otherwise.

"I think that someone needs to be taught a lesson," I said to her, and she shook her head, still looking so damned cute. I don't think she was expecting me to throw her over my shoulder, but I did.

"Aieeee! Help me! Casavir!" she wailed. With more than a little amusement, I noted that our famed Lady Captain couldn't get out more than three syllables at a time. She was always like this when she couldn't decide whether to laugh or scream. "Help! I promise—to be good—forever! I promise! Khelgar! He'll kill me!"

I half-expected the paladin to stop me before I was out of the door, but he didn't. I turned back to look at him, and he raised an eyebrow, and continued with his breakfast, while I grinned and carried on with my little discipline lesson.

Khelgar stirred as Bishop stepped over him, and slowly roused. "Mmgh. Shouldn't we do something?"

The paladin sighed and leaned over the supine dwarf, "Khelgar, my friend, have you looked at your feet lately?"

"… No. Why?"

The githzerai cleric appeared and stated, "Know that my toenails have suddenly turned red, and they seem to have been inscribed with some runes."

Casavir sighed deeply again and said patiently, "Zhjaeve, try to imagine what those 'runes' would look like to a person standing in front of you. Khelgar, just look."

"Know that it spells out I-D-O-N-T-K-N-O-W with a… an exclamation mark as the last arcane symbol."

Khelgar spluttered, "My toes! What…what happened to them?"

"Our lady did. So do yours say anything?"

"I-R-O-N-H-E-A-D. She sure knows how to flatter a dwarf."

Casavir's familiar long-suffering expression was firmly in place as he sighed again. "I don't think that was quite what she meant, but never mind.

It was at that moment that they noted a continuous squalling which was steadily progressing in volume. Shortly afterwards, Sand chose to make his entrance, oddly serene despite the fact that Qara was screaming in his ear.

"GET IT OFF YOU HEAR ME YOU STUPID LITTLE POINTY-EARED SMARMY-MOUTHED—" she didn't notice Sand's subtle gestures and as he ended by drawing his finger across his lips, he said quietly, "Silence."

Qara's throat worked, but no sound emerged. With instincts honed by months of managing the pair, Casavir grabbed the young woman before she could claw Sand's eyes out. The elf calmly removed some wadded cotton from his ears and massaged the tips gently, looking unusually beatific. "Good morning, comrades. Our dearest sorceress seems rather excitable today."

The redhead in question pointed at her toes frantically. The Captain had been surprisingly poetic in her inscription: "Damp Ashes". Casavir had a feeling that the lady would have preferred something more derogatory, and certainly 'bargirl' or worse would have been in consideration. All in all, the sorceress really did not have much to complain about.

After giving it some thought, he handed a struggling Qara to Khelgar and went to check on Shandra. She was snoring lightly, and drooling onto her pillow. He gave thanks to Tyr that he no longer did the laundry for their little party. Her toenails were a cheery yellow and the words in black said "Not my fault". He closed the door quietly, and decided that it would be a shame if he let Cook Annah's bread get any colder without giving it due justice.

The Captain

"So, what are my chances of finding a wand of sleep on your person, if I checked now?" He said it slyly, evidently relishing the thought of frisking me.

"Zilch," I said with a straight face, trying not to admire how the perfectly defined muscles on his back and how they rippled as he walked while carrying me with ease. Or not do it too obviously anyway.

He snorted disbelievingly. "Fine. What are my chances of finding a burnt out wand of sleep in your bedroom?"

Dammit!

"Got you there, didn't I?" he kicked the door to his room open, and dumped me unceremoniously on his unmade bed. I scooted under the blanket and hid. I didn't want to watch him kill me, after all. I heard him sliding the bolt in place, and then he came to crouch in front of me.

Wrapping the blanket securely around myself, I scuttled into the corner and pleaded, "Dontkillmedontkillmedontkillme…" His blanket smelled very pleasantly of him; not a bad way to go, really.

"Anything to say for yourself?"

"I didn't do it!" I had dropped my slippers somewhere along the way while kicking my legs futilely, so I shoved a bare foot at him. "My toenails are pink too." He grabbed my foot, and I wiggled my toes at him, while adding in a small voice. "See, we match."

I sensed that he was more touched than he was letting on, but still he said, "How should you be punished, hmm?" He stroked my foot absently, and I startled then cursed mentally. This was not a good time for Bishop to realize that I was horribly ticklish.

He smiled slowly then, coppery eyes narrowing with glee.

Uh oh.

He tore the blanket off, and attacked me with his fingers. I did what I had always done since I was a little girl in West Harbor: I closed my eyes, screamed and lashed out blindly with every limb. I felt my foot connect with flesh. Bishop made a choked sound, and fell off the bed onto the floor.

I peeped over the edge where he was lying on the floor with his eyes closed, one hand held protectively over his sensitive bits.

"I'm so sorry! Are you okay? I didn't kick you there, did I?"

With a palpable horror in his voice, he said very slowly, "Half an inch. If I had been half an inch shorter…"

Without warning, his eyes snapped open, and he moved fast, even by his standards. I blinked and found him pinning me to the bed, his body stretched out over mine. "I think that this is a better punishment," he whispered, and then he kissed me.

I knew that my eyes were wide when he drew away, and he chuckled at the look on my face. "I know I'm good, even if you can't seem to find the words to tell me."

I found my tongue at that moment, and I retorted indignantly, "If you're so good, why do you have to visit brothels regularly? Huh? Huh?!"

"Just waiting until you admit to yourself that you want me, that's all." He then focused on my neck, and whatever he did, it was terribly ticklish. I twitched and whimpered, highly annoyed at myself for my hypersensitive sense of touch, and he looked at me with incredulity. "By the Hells, are you that ticklish?"

"Are you that afraid of losing your manhood that you have to overcompensate now?"

"That's it. No more talking, no more talking…" he covered my lips with his when I opened my mouth to tell him that it was a really pathetic comeback.

Mm, I forgot what I wanted to say.

It's not hard to tell when a dwarf comes a'calling. When dwarves hammer on a door, they really take the term quite literally. There was a crack as the timber splintered with the first blow. Khelgar said something that sounded like a cross between 'oops' and 'shit', and then cleared his throat and shouted. "All right laddie, play time is up. Yon paladin said to come and get the lady, so let her out now, nice and easy."

Bishop had looked up at the first sound, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. He relaxed again, and brought his face close to mine. "And we were just getting warmed up," he whispered in a voice that made my insides shiver.

Another blow, and this time Khelgar's fist came through the door itself. I heard him saying to someone outside, "But I didn't even use my hammer this time…"

With a sigh, Bishop rolled off me and onto his feet. Lazily, he ambled towards the door and pulled open the latch. Deprived of this vital support, a large part of the door collapsed inwards, and Bishop narrowed his eyes as fragments of wood showered the floor. He side-stepped it neatly, and when the dust cleared, we saw Khelgar rubbing his neck sheepishly while Casavir kneaded his temples with his knuckles.

I knew that Bishop wouldn't pass up the opportunity to rub it in Casavir's face, so I wasn't altogether surprised when he bent over me and brushed his lips against mine softly. "Wake up, princess." He didn't sound sarcastic, which I did not expect. And it was weirdly sweet, even if he was just doing it to prove a point. He offered me a hand and pulled me to my feet, even deigning to kiss me on the forehead.

"My lady, you may wish to consider investing in—ah, sturdier doors." Casavir rumbled drily.

Slipping right back into sleaze mode, Bishop drawled, "Indeed. After all, we," and he looked right at me with that wicked glint in his eye, "might need it for more…heavy usage."

I tried to puzzle that out for a while, and eventually gave up. "That just flew right over my head. Anyone care to translate?"

Casavir's face was a study in pained expressions. "Never mind, my lady. I think that you would prefer not knowing."

"Oh, all right then. Do me a favour and make Qara sweep up this mess. Ask Veedle to fix up a new door." I said briskly.

With impeccable timing, Sand materialized from thin air. "With pleasure," he said with obvious relish.

We were following the cackling elf down the hall when Bishop yelled, "How do I get this stuff off anyway?"

Ignoring him was fun.

Khelgar cleared his throat and asked, "So, erm. What does yours say?" He cast a sideways look at Casavir.

Casavir paused, and finally said, "You tell him."

"Old Owl Well."

Khelgar's laughter echoed through the stone walls of the keep, and shortly after, I heard Shandra screaming my name. Oops, time to hide again.