The drow was certainly soft and warm, and slept only lightly, and little at that. It might take Savyna time to see the shadows that were under the drow's eyes, through the ebon skin. But they were there from lack of rest. In the morning she got to her feet, crossing the room to where she pulled out a flog with bits of metal on the end, and began to silently whip her own back with it, drawing beads of blood with every swing. After about ten minutes of this, the drow set the weapon aside, cast a spell that healed the wounds, and began getting dressed, asking. "Is there anything you would like for breakfast?"