12th Ches, 1360 DR (5042 OC)
Please forgive the dreadful condition of these few pages. Honeymead is not quite compatible with ink and parchment. Nor was the mug quite compatible with my skull. Allow me to pass on a certain jewel of wisdom I have gleaned from the events of this afternoon: Whores have feelings too. It is within the realm of possibilities that in my quest for a more spectacular orgasm, I may have overlooked the needs of my partner; something I strive keenly never to do. I simply forgot that there are some people in this world, Mirri for example, for whom the pleasures of the flesh are even more important than they are for me. (A fact that I find quite difficult to believe, but a fact nonetheless.)
After tending to my bruised forehead, I sought out Mirri and tended to her bruised ego, promising her my complete and full attention on her next night off, including a fine meal at one of Dragon Rock’s better brasseries. Not surprisingly, my offer was accepted, but she seemed somewhat uninterested in the meal. Ahh well, perhaps I shall have an early dinner in order to bolster my stamina that evening.