Another loud start to a morning in Silver Trident. Zebedee Nash groaned as he nursed a cup of whiskey-laced coffee, groaning and massaging his temples as best he could with his calloused fingers. He hated the morning after one of his exorcism jobs, especially when the others had had good luck on their jobs and they felt like celebrating. But he was the only one here qualified for getting rid of the ghoulies, and he had a moral obligation to see to the locals protected. A hangover was a small price to pay.

"I swear before my god and these witnesses that I will remain true to the right and just, and that my magic will be used to protect, never to enslave. That all my strength will always SHIELD the innocent. The society will be my blood, and its members my brothers. I pledge my knowledge, my resources and my life to uphold these things." He mumbled the words to himself. He'd always found that the oath of his old guild helped deal with headaches, and it was good to remind himself of the values he'd sworn to back then. It was a good thing this crew held themselves to about the same standards.

The loud, boistrous entrance of Ray and his....frigging cat thing, earned a deep groan from the big man as he clutched his forehead tightly. He liked the kid well enough, but he hoped to God that he wouldn't sit beside him right now. Unfortunately, he chose a seat only a down from the necromancer. With a sigh, Zeb raised one big hand in greeting, downing the rest of his coffee and cutting off a slab of meat from his steak.

"Mornin'....sounds like a lucky friggin' day for jus' about everyone but me." He grumbled in his gravely, manly baritone, not quite looking at the kid as he chewed his food. "Don't suppose one's the healers got back yet? Feel like I jus' got slugged upside the head."