"The name's Deviathon, but I prefer Devin. And what do I call a lovely lady such as yourself?" He asked, ever the gentleman. Then he realized something. "So forgive me for asking this, but I seem to have locked myself out of my house." He lied. Better to have a plausible reason for the next question he was going to ask, he reasoned. "You wouldn't happen to have a spare bed? I can offer you my services as payment." He racked his brain for a job description he could give her, but that was irrelevant as he was suddenly able to feel his body's nervous system functioning again.<br/><br/>Deviathon double over in pain as a cut in his side that he had long been ignorant to regained it's feeling. He lay sprawled out on the ground as it shook his body with the end of a spear that was lodged in it. This was under his shirt, so it wasn't visible, but the gash needed to be treated soon or it would get very infected, very quickly. That added to the fact that the tip of a spearhead was still there made him swear in the demonic tongue, then whimper. "Damn you Soldier! If I wasn't in this much pain, I'd find your ancestors and kill them all!" he whimpered again after saying this.<br/><br/>Turning onto his uninjured side, he asked the woman next to him. "Is there a place I can be treated or have a spearhead removed from my abs? I seem to have forgotten about it, and the feeling just returned to my midsection."