The next morning after they were clear of the Drifting Shepherd, they headed back to the base. They were met with the same usual looks of admiration and such but none seemed surprised by their dishevelled appearances.
'It looks like they're already used to the Cloud Hunters doing this,'
That almost sounded like a joke. They were used to soldiers going back to their outpost after a long night of constant drinking. It sounded like a joke but here they were, living that exact same situation.
Melchior was fine though. He passed on any alcohol giving and retained his sensibilities for the most part, despite being dazed by the scent of it around him.
Old Al had allowed them to stay in spare rooms in the inn connected to the tavern, but it was only one or two rooms that had to be shared in between all the Cloud Hunters. It made it rather uncomfortable to sleep in, but the others didn't seem to mind it.
