Cespenar's New Best Friend

The imp's skin was grey leather, a few strings of dry hair covering its skull. Its beady eyes regarded Sarevok alertly, the expression not unfriendly but very inquisitive.

- "And what, or who, are you?" Sarevok asked, expecting anything.

- "I'se the littlest butler! I Cespenar! You'se here by accident, maybe? Master's blood's gone from you?"

Sarevok nodded wearily. The imp seemed brightened by being right in his deduction.

- "I'se been waiting for the great one! You'se not the great one!" it exclaimed.

- "Don't I know it," answered Sarevok gloomily.

- "You'se still nice, though," said the imp, and patted Sarevok's arm.

- "I suppose I should thank you. Is Peri the great one, then?" asked Sarevok.

- "Oh, red-hair! Not the pink-hair, but the red-hair!" The imp seemed all worked up. "The red-hair's a great one all right, but the pink-hair also has blood of the great one, but the pink-hair's not wants to be the great one, and the red-hair's not also wants but feels more like the great one..." he babbled on.

- "Calm yourself, imp!" Sarevok snapped. "Slow down. Are you telling me that the pink-haired girl also has the blood of Bhaal in her veins?"

- "Oh yes, oh yes," Cespenar said enthusiastically. "She also has the blood, but she's SOOO sad and she not at all wants to have the blood. She all teddy bears and sugar and smile and gentleness, Imoen. Not at all murder, gore, blood, hate, no no no..."

- "I think I get the picture," answered Sarevok. So even the pink-haired thief, named Imoen, had more divine blood that he had at the moment. What kind of justice was that? The usual kind, he guessed. Non-existent.

- "Do you know who I am?" he asked, just out of curiosity.

The imp tilted his head.

- "You'se... Sarevok! Very very very much blood of the great one but then all boom! Killed and no more blood of the great one! Oh well, what the hell..." the imp hummed, avoiding his gaze.

- "Your delusional comments aside, you do have a grip on what is going on?" asked Sarevok.

- "Me's the butler! The littlest butler! Bhaal always kicking me, oh yes! Hurting poor Cespenar..." the imp looked positively sad now, sniffing a little.

- Here I am, stuck with an insane imp with the most irritating voice there possibly could be," said Sarevok gloomily.

- "Me's voice irritating?" Cespenar asked, his eyes huge in uncomplicated, childish hurt.

- "It could be... in some circumstances... perceived as... such," said Sarevok, deep down cursing himself for not being able to be more blunt. What did he owe to the stupid imp? And the thing really was irritating.

- "Me's can not help the voice," sulked the imp.

- "Nobody is perfect," answered Sarevok gruffly, in spite of his better judgement.

- "So! You'se my new best friend!" lightened Cespenar up. "We's celebrate my birthday next week! Me's 1347 years old now."

- "Congratulations. An... impressive age," said Sarevok.

- "You'se just a human! Just a few, few years! You'se could maybe travels with Peri and the pink-hair, yes? Red-hair all mad at poor Sarevok but Cespenar give her cake too and then she like Sarevok!"

- "No doubt she will," Sarevok answered dryly.

- "Me's make you pancakes, yes?" asked Cespenar shyly. "Me'se birthday and all... and you'se all sad your great one blood went BOOOOM! Yes?"

- "Pancakes." Sarevok felt a sudden, fierce headache.

- "Oh yes, oh yes! Me'se many kind of jellies, oh yes! Me'se good cook! Me'se make good pancakes... you'se not like... me's pancakes...?" The imp looked so sad, so hurt.

- "Oh all right! Please make the pancakes. I'd be honored. Really," said Sarevok. "I want to celebrate your birthday."

He tried to tell himself he was just obliging the imp because it could give him some valuable information.. After all, that was the only rational reason he had not already killed the irritating thing. It surely couldn't be that he wanted company or felt sympathy for the annoying creature? No, Sarevok still was evil and great, intimidating and menacing. Wasn't he?