A pounding on his door roused the elf from his sleep. He turned just enough so his face wasn’t completely in his pillow and groaned, “Come back with a warrant.” The sheets and blanket were a bit scratchy, not the luxurious silk linens he was used to, but they had been warm enough for a cheap inn. Never mind the fact that leaving the bed meant the day was beginning, and that meant he would have to deal with her. Wretched drow. No sense of humor. Knocks on doors like a battering ram.
“I am the warrant, Silverleaf, come on. Up and at ‘em.” The knock came again, this time with an additional metallic clank. Was she going to break the door down with her gauntlets? “If you don’t get up now, you’ll have to get on the road hungry, and after yesterday, I think neither of us wants that.”