“So… five more minutes, ya? Then I’ll do whatever ya want me to.”

He murmurs with a yawn, closing his eyes. There is a sense of security and the warmth is a welcome feeling from all the cold offered to him in this cruel dungeon.

Well, without the warmth of the sun nearby, the rogue decides to crawl after them and once he does he rests his head in their lap.

“Yer mornin’ greetin’ reminds me of someone… ya don’t this mind, right?”

A whiny sound slips from the sellsword and he swats at any hand trying to pry the bottle from his grip.

“Mmm… let’s make a deal… If I get up I keep the bottle but, if I give up the bottle then ya let me sleep for five more minutes.”

🪙 Thank goodness. I think my brain did the same but my fingers did not connect.

… Are ya sayin’ ya don’t use yer brain or somethin’?

I use mine plenty!

🪙 *difference.

Whoops. At least you know what I mean. 🤣😭😔