Herbalists' Cache you opiate this hazy head of mine

It was that scolding look from Saor that kept Dirge from rattling off another crass comment in regards to his identity. One corner of his mouth couldn't help but crinkle into the faintest of smug smirks — the temptation ever so evident — but in the end, he relented and the smirk faded away. She had already embarrassed herself enough from the sound of things and, well, he had overshadowed it. Typical. He'd have it no other way.

"The name's Dirge," he went on, "and if it's any consolation, I assure you that you smell better than a mouse." He probably tasted better than one too, but fortunately for him the trio hadn't felt the necessity to resort to cannibalism quite yet. Even that thought crossed his mind to be a rejoinder but that would surely earn him knots on his head. Instead, he turned his attention to his sister.

"So, eating berries and making friends then? You've found more excitement than I have all day."