"The threat is great." The Seer bowed her head momentarily, light from the sconces playing in the silver crown of her hair. When she raised her head, her gaze was dark and serious. "You have little choice in the matter, I know. Halaster's magics have taken that priviledge from you, and unjustly."
"We had hoped you would aid us willingly." Nathyrra said, echoing the Seer's words of moments before. Although she was attempting for a calm demeanor, her tension and worry was evident in the way she stood, the rigid lines of the muscles in her slender arms as she crossed them. "Now we only hope you will accept our assistance. There is a way we can both get what we want here."
Stroking his chin thoughtfully -- and jutting it for maximum heroic effect -- Dirk affected an air of cool detachment as he nodded sagely. Standing behind him, Deekin fiddled with his lute and tried his best not to fidgit. The Boss meant well, at least as far as he could see, and Deekin knew it was often best to let Dirk play out the scenarios in his head. He was often much more manageable after a maiden or two had dutifully popped a few buttons on her blouse and swooned at his feet.
"I'll do it." he said finally, placing his hands on his admirably narrow hips, oblivious to the elaborate rolling of the eyes the tiefling standing off to one side offered. "As much for my own good as for your own, my lady. But it will not be easy. My flunky and I will require supplies, and rest."
The Seer smiled, and a ripple of relief ran through the assembled drow, as subtle as the shivering of a leaf before a rainstorm. "You have our thanks, my friend. The stores of the city are open to you, and we will of course have a bed prepared for you to -- "
Dirk threw up one broad hand, silencing her. "No need, my dear. No need. You have a nice temple. This will do fine."
And, before she could respond, he dropped to the floor and immediately began snoring loudly.
There was a beat of silence before Commander Imloth stepped forward. "Should we . . . ?" he whispered, miming shaking the sleeping man.
Looking both bewildered and resigned, the Seer shook her head. "Let him . . . rest. And . . . try not to step in our saviour's drool. Somehow I don't think Lolth would appreciate it tracked all over the temple."
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Author's Note: A shortie this time, but I do call them Shorts for a reason. This actually worked better as a visual gag in my head; unfortunately, I'm no artist. But you can't tell me you haven't wondered about the resting system before. I did this so often, you'd have thought I'd have multi-classed to narcoleptic. I really need to write more things with Dirk. In the words of Jody of Preacher fame -- "He thinks he's a hero. And heroes is always fun."