<div style="background-color:#353535; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: justify;">"Why don't <span style="font-style: italic">you</span> find your own haystack," Tom replied, although it wasn't much of a question - he was still a little too occupied by his lack of breeches to worry about finding somewhere else to sleep. Besides, that crossbeam had knocked him right awake. He continued shuffling around in the ankle-deep horse food before finally, with an immense sense of relief, locating his pants.<br/><br/>As he pulled them on, he felt something rustling around in his pocket. A quick dig revealed a small rock, a single golden coin, a couple of teeth and a crumpled piece of paper. Curious, he unfolded it.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I, Jack, sign this paepr becos Thomas is a fine fellllow and monsterhunting is a noble persuit and I will hunt with hm becos we are friends and we will hunt montsers until we die</span><br/><br/>Tom stared at the note. At the bottom of the page was an 'X'. Painful recollection washed over him as his head continued to pound. "Did you write this?" He asked the man - who was, presumably and hopefully, Jack.</div></div>