The sergeant behind the desk kept his position, good leg kicked up on the desk, leaning back in his chair. He looks at the remains, then back at Caiaphas, then at the trophies again, before fishing out a bottle from his desk. He pops it open, and the scent of<em>very</em>strong dwarven whiskey fills the room. He's pretty sure the paint on the walls started peeling. The dwarf takes a long swallow, then passes the bottle to Caiaphas, still half full. "Ye earned this, at least."