Handy woke up in an incredibly foul mood. His head was pounding something awful and he turned irritably in his, yet again, too small cot to see the errant claw of some griffon or other in the bunk above him lying over the side near where he had been resting his head. He gave the bunk above him a tremendous kick, launching the bird from his slumber and onto the floor. He chewed out the unfortunate guard good and proper about the correct bunkroom etiquette of not kicking the guy sleeping beneath you in your sleep.