Serrin sat up on the cot to find himself in a room that was bare except for the makeshift bed, a table, and a rickety chair. Lit only by a naked bulb on the ceiling, the place would have made a barracks look like a gaudy Turkish brothel in comparison. The red-haired elf sat with his elbows resting on the back of the chair, legs splayed indolently to either side. He broke open a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Serrin. The mage hesitated.