Deck Swabbers

With a sleepy snort Hyperion bolted upright and sent a small mountain of rolled maps skittering across the floor. Was that a howl? At this time of nigh- he peeked outside to double check and then blinked in surprise - day? Well heck it was day. When had that happened? Last he checked it was half past moonrise, but a half finished map and a bottle of rum had a way of greasing time and sending it streaking past like lightning. Whoops.

He lurched to his paws and went careening after the source of the howl, arriving, blessedly, with what looked like time to spare. Whew. Hyperion dropped to his belly in the shade of a willow and fixed gritty, totally not hungover, eyes on Sparrow. He’d be right as rain here in a minute. Just needed a little pick-me-up, which he’d brought along, of course. While waiting for the meeting to start Hyperion uncorked the flask and took a sip. Better. His day was looking brighter already.