Now this was what he meant when he had spoken about not being able to sleep in the nether realms. First, the human with the metallic arm would not stop talking - he had now begun to mumble something about being followed by fairies, which signified he was either hallucinating (which might have implied he had eaten some of his mushrooms, which would have been very bad) or simply making things up expressly to annoy him (which would have been just as bad). Then, the brutish fellow with the anachronistic weapons rumbled on in the background, and, judging by his interest in the drunkard's cup, was about to become even more boisterous, not to mention probably destructive. The two demons rejoindered at times, as well, but those, he supposed, could be tolerated for the sake of the greater sleep, as they were the only ones, that he was aware, who knew where they were supposed to go. Finally, just when it seemed one would be hard-pressed to think of anything worse, the masked vandal came crashing through the room and directly into himself, bellowing something inane as usual.

This was truly too much to bear. Muttering something similar to [color=007236]"Mwrvfrvgll"[/color] due to the partly eaten fruit still in his mouth, Old N laboriously swivelled to one side, possibly knocking the already unstable Grog over in the process, and began to crawl towards where he vaguely remembered the bathroom to be (even in such a restricted space, he somehow managed to have trouble finding his way). Halfway through the door, however, he remembered he was forgetting his bag, and by extension his basket, in the main hall, and, finding scuttling backwards to be too much of an effort, tried to turn around where he lay. This proved to be a terrible decision, since, while the doorway was spacious enough to allow him through frontally, it certainly was too narrow for him to occupy sideways. Though he succeeded in recovering the bag with a motion of his still largely limp right pincer, he now found himself hopelessly stuck in a position that would effectively prevent anyone from coming into, or going out of, the hall from the back quarters. After some fruitless tugging, the crab-like demon resigned himself to his new situation, which was truly not quite so uncomfortable for someone with a carapace, and began to blissfully slumber away in it, oblivious to anyone else's possible need for egress from the room.