Sleep had come grudgingly for Berma, and she had spent many a late hour pacing around the room like a beast in cage.  Following the mid-afternoon catastrophe her nerves were especially short-fused, and on several occasions she tromped on back down to the common area to check on the sleepy old Owlbear roped up outside.<br/><br/>Only at the very last did she allow sleep to claim her, but<em>wakefulness</em>came far easier for the worldly woman, and the moment her eyes noticed a change in the decor of her room she damn near upended the bed and broke the window in the process of disentangling herself from the sheets and shouting something nonsensical about<em>thieves</em>and<em>magical perverts</em>.<br/><br/>By the time she came down and found her box by the tree she'd found herself in a particularly sour mood, clearly unsettled by the strange decorations and the enchantments that had surely been cast in order to get everything as it was.  Berma glanced furtively at the bartender, perhaps wondering if<em>he</em>was to blame, before snatching up her gift and wrenching the wrapping paper off with a bemused expression.