[color=00a99d][h3][center]Maréngo[/center][/h3][/color]
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Maréngo woke with a start as the light slapped him across the face and the mercenary's voice filled his head. He sat bolt upright, disturbing the sleep of his bedfellows in the process, and brandished his empty bottle like a club ready to-- oh merciful gods above his [i]head![/i] He groaned from deep in his hair covered chest and dropped the bottle which rolled off the edge of the bed with a solid thunk that only served to hasten the stragglers. The sailor clutched his poor, throbbing skull with both hands and felt something on his head. His fingers brushed against leather and he took off a hat he'd never seen before in his life.
[color=00a99d]"What in the Nine Hells?"[/color] he asked the empty air, his voice hoarse from too much liquor and too little water.
He tossed the ridiculous thing aside where it hit a camelid he hadn't noticed on the rear. It gave an annoyed snort and moved away out of range of any more thrown objects. Maréngo paused and laughed at the absurdity of it all even as he felt invisible hammers use his forehead as an anvil. His companions from the night before rolled off the bed and onto unsteady legs to hunt for their clothes. The two women awkwardly tried to cover themselves and avoid looking at Nora as they collected their garments. By contrast, Maréngo was wholly unconcerned by wearing nothing more than what the gods had graced him with upon his birth as he tossed the sheets aside and clambered off the mattress.
[color=00a99d]"Where were you, Nora?"[/color] he asked flirtatiously, [color=00a99d]"I don't remember much but I know you'd have had much more fun with-"[/color]
His playful antics were cut short as nausea crashed over him like a rogue wave. There was nothing he could do to stop his dinner from make a reappearance on the floor as he stumbled back and sat down heavily at the edge of the bed. He groaned once more and rubbed his temples. Lord Leathe preserve his poor soul his head felt like a splitting log.

The Zherpanian bandit's lips pursed into a thin, unwelcoming line, and her features shifted into a deep scowl as she looked over the drunken sailor with a look that was at best deeply disappointed.
"I find little pleasure in the arms of drunkards, Maréngo," Nora said with a sneer, gracefully stepping around the food the sailor had freshly regurgitated onto the floor.
Listening to the sputtering sounds and cursing coming from Y'Vanna and her nightly companions, Nora felt a small, distinctly unwelcome urge to be kind. With a gentle wave of her hand, Nora signaled once more to the serving boy who brought a bucket of water to Maréngo without emptying it over him, instead holding it out in front of him. "Wash up, sailor, you stink, and we are late, thanks to you and Y'Vanna."

He mumbled something along the lines of a sarcastic "you're welcome" and took the bucket from Thomas. More than a few mouthfuls of water went down his throat before he dunked his entire head in the brisk water and came up for air a moment later with a gasp. He appeared to be at least somewhat more alert (even if he looked like a drowned rat with his dark hair plastering itself to his face) as he rubbed at his bloodshot eyes. The pounding in his head was still as agonizing as ever but he was with it enough to rinse down the essentials. He was nowhere near clean but now his smell was only mildly unpleasant. Just for good measure he dumped the rest of the water over himself and shivered as the water sucked the heat right out of him. He shielded his eyes from the light as he shook his hair out and set about looking for his pants. A snicker escaped him when he looked over and saw the state of Y'vanna. Oh, that was Y'vanna. He wasn't sure why it surprised him at first, they had similar tastes after all. He caught himself staring at her for more than a bit too long and tore himself away with some effort, trying his hardest not to let the image of her naked form brand itself on his mind.

It wasn't much longer before he was somewhat presentable, if disheveled as can be and looking a bit waterlogged. He feared it would be a permanent look as long as he stayed in this city. There was a series of pops along his spine as he stretched to banish the last of the sleep from his limbs. He made sure his sword belt was tight and patted his cutlass and his rigging knife as if to make sure they wouldn't run off on him.
[color=00a99d]"Let's be off then. Wouldn't want any of you land larkies drowin' when I had me back turned."[/color]
His eyes drifted back over to the camelid which had resumed grazing on the scattered vegetables. He chuckled for a moment and turned to Nora.
[color=00a99d]"Do you think Vargas would mind if he found our friend here after we leave?"[/color] His chuckling gave way to laughter. [color=00a99d]"Don't worry, I'm sure he has some coin left to pay!"[/color]
Speaking of coin, he emptied his coin pouch into his hand and counted three gold coins. He stood perplexed for a moment until it dawned on him that he must have done some gambling he didn't quite remember. Back into the pouch they went and he tied it securely around his belt. For better or worse he was ready to go.