Ferrow politely accepted the party virus stick back from Senjen and sequestered it away inside his suit.

“It would appear your friends are gluttons for punishment.” He chuckled, surveying the scene again.

“We would appreciate you not mentioning this to anyone.” Ferrow said quietly after a few moments.

“Perhaps take them home to sleep it off. I’ll see you in the morning, hmm?”

Ruk tumbled out of the boat face first, splashing into the shallows before scrambling unsteadily to her feet. Every aspect of her outfit was dishevelled, including her lovely feathers. It didn't seem like she recognised Senjen and appeared to be non-verbal.

Light disembarked in high spirits having negotiated another amphora of red wine in exchange for releasing the oar. He was warbling a song of moans, whistles and clicks.

“Ah! Senjen me old mate, there ya are! Come come, we need to load the ship! We’re going on an adventure tomorrow!” He gave Senjen a wet and sticky hug, assimilated the last few litres of sanguine liquid and then fell floppy to the ground.

“I’ll call you a taxi. Rest well.” Ferrow said.