<div class="floatright">(http://i63.tinypic.com/1zq8oc6.jpg)</div><br/>Pozhvim’s usual nook was the kind of place only a weirdo like him would want. There was some kind of glowy fungus up out of reach in a hole in the ceiling above where he slept. Not bright enough to be painful, but who’d want to sleep with that shining down on them? Dopey Pozhvim, apparently, who got lost in the dark, braided chains and crowns out of glowshrooms, and always had his hand on a wall.<br/><br/>The slim male starts slightly at Nug’s grip, but doesn’t pull away. Typical of him. Typically odd. Most kobolds who don’t like sleeping curled up in a pile of other kobolds react badly to being touched, but despite sleeping alone, rather like Nug does, Pozhvim is…Seemingly quite comfortable being pushed, grabbed, and otherwise physically guided to do what others want of him.<br/><br/>He is, for lack of a better word, pliable. Oh, he’s rather submissive, too, but that’s a more conscious side of him.<br/><br/>Pozhvim isn’t entirely conscious at the moment, though. He turns slightly towards her, orange-rimmed eyes trying to use the dim glow of the hanging candelabra mushrooms rather than the darkness. “…Nug?” he murmurs quietly. Then, as her words percolate through his sleepiness, he gives a slow nod. “Okay?”