"Sleeping outside, instead of changing rooms." To one with more cock. Lazar ticks off fingers: "Spooking for dead folks. Drinking more'n usual,"

Two, three. That last hardly counts, but deep in a bottle as he might be, Barrow's not usually so fucking surly for it.

"Your elfroot's growing mildew in the yard, or I'd check that, too."

Can lyrium moulder?