"His eyes are opening." She whispered, wiping the drips off his forehead. They'd tucked him tightly into the feather packed mattress. On his forehead they had a wet cloth to keep him cool, and next to the bed they put what was left of his stolen alcohol supply.
      "Hey, you ok?" Eric poked at him.
      "Nn... what happened?" Blake grumbled as he tried to sit up.
      "You tried to cast something too powerful. You're undead chased the drows away though. And to top it off I think you're having a hangover." Prism checked off the small list.
      "I need a drink." He moaned, "You tucked this in too tight... I can't move. And I can't feel my arms anymore."
      "Oh, sorry." Bentora tugged out his covers.
      "And I'm not giving you a drink. I don't know much about it, but I know that's not how you cure a hangover." Prism rebutted, "Besides, Emeryl said to keep you in bed for awhile."
      "You're letting the kid give orders?" Blake skeptically queried.
      "He knows the most right now. He's met the people, and he's studied about healing. We just have to wait for him to fill us in." Prism replied.
      "Where is he?" Blake asked, "And where's the other kid?"
      "She's with him. They're probably still running around helping all those people who got shot." Bentora leaned backwards. Rebelliously Blake struggled out of the bed.
      "Don't..."
      "Lay off!" Blake shoved Prism back. He swung his legs over the side and wobbled off, refusing aid from anyone. Scooping a bottle of ale off the ground he propelled his weak legs to the door, then stumbled outside. Slumping against the outside wall he snapped open the bottle.
      "Stupid fools..." he muttered to himself.
      "Blake! Blake! Blake!" the little brown priest rushed him from nowhere; "This is so great! I've been helping people and healing people and they're getting better I've never had so much fun!" he bounced vigorously, holding Blake's hands.
      "That's great..." Blake yanked his hands away.
      "Hey, what're you doing out of bed?" Emeryl blinked twice.
      "I'm drinking. Where'd you put Leiko?" Blake wiped his mouth with his glove.
      "She's helping Ariana." He answered. Prism poked his head out of the building.
      "Prism! Look, I get to help people here!" Emeryl tackled him.
      "Whoa, calm down." Prism lightly pushed out of Emeryl's hold; "We're going to have to leave soon."
      "Ne... leave?" Emeryl repeated.
      "Yes, we're still trying to move out of here. We'll give Blake some time to rest up, get something to eat and leave." Prism explained.
      "Oh, of course." The excitement faded from Emeryl's voice.
      "Are you feeling alright?" Prism asked.
      "No, I mean, yes. I, was just feeling so good about myself. I'm useful here." Emeryl answered softly.
      "I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that he gets to lay his hands on young, single females..." Blake muttered, taking another sip out of his ale.
      "Ne?" Emeryl glanced down at him, flushing.
      "He's only seventeen." Prism snapped, "He's a seventeen year old priest, his mind isn't sick like yours."
      "Oh, I remember quite clearly that I started noticing girls when I was nine." Blake shook his finger at them.
      "Emeryl isn't like that." Prism defensively answered.
      Blushing, Emeryl suddenly realized that for the past hours he'd been doing exactly what Blake said.
      "You see, he's thinking about it." Blake gestured towards Emeryl.
      "But that's your fault. Why don't you just teach him anatomy?" Prism offered.
      "I just might have to." He shrugged.
      "Under my dead body! Get out of here while you're still a virgin." Prism nudged Emeryl.
      Nodding, the energy returned to Emeryl as he burst the other direction and ditched them.