Herding about a group of drunkards after the party had been difficult enough. Herding the birthday boys home so they might be fed, watered, washed and put to bed? Nigh impossible. But he had indeed managed as the token sober individual and for that Zevran feels he has earned a drink.

But fist, the hangovers of those in the house needs tending to. As an extension of his consideration for their days of birth Zevran untangles himself from the nest of his boys and their limbs and sheets and starts brewing coffee, frying slabs of bacon and begins boiling broth for a salty, fatty, perfect Antivan cure for a horrible morning after drinking far, far too much.