Enedith and Ori, too, soon fell asleep. But although she slept like Snow White all through the night - easy to fall asleep, easy to wake up - his case was different. He hardly managed to put his night clothes on before he dozed off, and in the morning, he didn't want to open his eyes for the love of all the gods.
It was Ori's tugging that finally woke him up. And he was forced to look up into her face, appearing hazy and blurry to his confused brain, to see her hands waving in front of his eyes.
"Ene, wake up! You gotta bring breakfast to mister over there!" she remarked, and kept trying to get him up on his feet.
What bright light... Oh, dammit. This was awful!
His head was pounding, and his body felt like lead. Did he really have to down that whole bottle? Wait, did he even down all of it?
With a groan, he raised himself to his elbows, and kept staring at her blankly. "Mister?" he mumbled.
"Yes. Mister Phintil. He's in your room!" she reminded him, waving her hand at the tray with food. Hurry up, you were supposed to do it already! We'll have to sweep up again..." she sighed. Enedith's eyes widened. Sweeping? No way!
Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the tray with his healthy hand, and bolted through the narrow corridor to deliver it to Phintil in his room as fast as possible, only by some kind of miracle not entirely covering all of the floor in salad, eggs, and pieces of fish. Who knows what kind of miracle that was, but it was definitely effective - when he finally arrived to the doorway, somewhat pale and more scruffy than you'd ever expect a person to be, even in the morning, the breakfast was still whole. He laid the tray down, immediately after bringing his hand to his hair to rake through it and attempt to tame it, although it kept escaping and weaving around his fingers.
