Herlion woke with a slight start, finding himself still in the corner where he had drifted off. His pipe had fallen onto the floor, though not before leaving a scorchmark on his boot, which now seemed to be smoking slightly. He had obviously been sleeping for quite a while, since the inn was a lot fuller now, and he had develop a crick in the neck. He stood up, somewhat stiffly, picking up his pipe, to wake himself up a bit, and walked around the perimeter of the floor a few times, sidestepping assorted... he decided on beings as being a nicely neutral word for them. All of them were awake, almost, and he wondered how he had slept through the racket of conversation himself.
Finally, getting tired of walking in circles, and increasingly aware of his growling stomach, Herlion sat down at an empty table and put his head in his hands, still tired. He wasn't sure of whether to stay at this inn much longer, didn't seem too exciting...
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"Glue... very powerful stuff."
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