"Oh, boo hoo! Oh, BOO HOO!" Godhand plucked up another piece of chicken and began to chomp it down with abandon. "Mmm, delicious! Yeah! Not a person!"
Deciding that he'd hammed it up about enough, Godhand put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with the napkin placed next to him. The mercenary reached down and undid his belt by a couple of notches. Whew, his brain felt like it was dipped in trypthophan and then set to a slow roast. He rubbed his eyes and cleared his throat before speaking.
"We leave...Whenever I wake up. Jesus, I'm exhausted. Okay, I'm gonna hit the bricks. Don't kill nobody while I'm sleeping."
Godhand pushed himself up from the table and announced his desire to sleep to the crowd. It was almost funny how they'd stuck to him ever since he'd taken out those guards; they must have looked at him like some sort of messiah. He supposed it wasn't surprising; when all you've had to eat for months is water-thin soup, even a mediocre stake tastes like glory. The townspeople quickly darted to and fro, inquiring with each other about where he should sleep. A decision was quickly reached, deciding to simply allow him to remain in one of the inn's room. Nobody was occupying any of the rooms, after all; Delion didn't get much tourism after The Scourge took control. Lillian had already been moved up to a suite, and even though bunking with her was tempting, he just couldn't get over the fact that she was underage. Godhand went to sleep in one of the inn's ordinary rooms.
It had been pretty sparse to begin with, but it was positively bare after Xem'Zund. Anything in the room that had been of any use or value had been stripped away, from the mirror to the oil lamp. The mercenary collapsed wearily unto the threadbare bed, burying his face in the pillow. Mmm, a woman had slept there recently. He could smell her on the sheets. The gunman smiled; it was with this thought that he finally went to sleep.