Unfortunately for dearest Snarg, Siege-- though admittedly aware enough of her poor influence on the heroic mercenary-turned-drunk, was comparatively less skilled at toning down the fun and excitement of a party gone off-the-rails than she was at riling them up. Indeed, the longer Snarg drank, and the more she goaded him on in turn, the further out of control their little daydrinking venture went-- With the armor only remembering to make sure he ate something after the second time he'd tripped over his own feet and nearly planed himself into the sun-heated stone bricks beneath them like some upside down flower. Really funny to watch, admittedly!
Funnier still was his incessant and somewhat belligerent defiance against her as she tried to get him to eat. It got so bad-- at least, to the good folk who happened a passing glance-- that Siege eventually had to pick him up off the ground, and hold him tight to her breastplate with one arm, and fight him over shoving the previously-given bread into his mouth with the other. Honestly, highlight of her day, that.
Granted, him spitting most of it right back out didn't seem to help the situation much, but Siege, who still held him in her arms, didn't seem to mind it-- Not as she bid farewell to the barkeep, nor as she went on to wander the small city with the crazed madman of a merc still stuffed under one of her arms-- to make sure he didn't escape and cause trouble, of course. Not because she always wondered what it would be like to take a human for a walk or anything. Besides, after the second or third hole in the wall tavern that she'd dragged him into, he seemed either far more coax-able and docile... or unconscious on his feet. It was really hard to tell with humans.
Such a fantastic day couldn't just end there, though-- Siege wouldn't have it. Good food and drink could only be rounded off with one thing, and one thing only-- KILLING! And thus did she, with a near-unconscious Snarg in hand, bid farewell to the town and it's incredibly worried (for an obviously good reason) people, before heading back out into the desert sands.
---
That was a day ago.
Fortunately, and true to her word, Siege had indeed found a safe enough spot for Snarg to rest, and sleep off the... remainder, we'll say, of his blackout. There was shade, provided by a dilapidated stone rooftop. There was warmth-- after all, the desert sands which had buried half of the abandoned buildings nearby made for fairly good sleeping digs, as long as your head was elevated enough, which she was kind enough to ensure by setting his head up on a makeshift cloth bag of yet more sand that she'd fashioned out of some skeleton's cloth-wear she'd found. There was even water nearby-- though 'nearby' was probably something close to a quarter-mile away, and 'water' was a small lake, seemingly man-made yet ages old with no real maintenance to be seen.
Yes, Snarg had it all... minus one thing. Or, one 'person'.
Instead, were he to wake up at all, he'd be met not with the towering mass of armor, but the cold, predatory gaze of an entirely different 'companion' from across the room... one who's blade stood drawn, and ready to strike in an instant.
Oh, it was good to be back... if only for a little while.