A Flying Wrench(2)
Getting up from a chair that creaked under his weight, Alex belched out another burp and tried not to wince inwardly as the guard right in front of him to whom the nasty smell of food being digested had reached grimaced, then tried hard to hide that expression under the innocuous face of someone loyally on duty.
Guffawing to himself, as was expected from an arrogant guest from the mainland, he walked, or rather, rolled to the door nearby behind which lay the bathroom.
Mors was sitting on one of the chairs in the large foyer of the veritable mansion that the two of them had been given while they waited to be taken to the ruling table of the Ushanbos. This galled him, of course, so he was making himself happy by taking out his irritation on the guards in various, innovative methods.