He reaches down, picks up his familiar, and deposits her around his shoulders where she's most comfy. He's warm, she doesn't have to slither, and she can offer commentary on things. Everybody wins.

Edarial leads her off to the honeymoon suite. It's nicely decorated, and a lot of attention is paid towards the bed. For obvious reasons. But it has couches and a table with chairs and what looks like a tiny bar filled with various types of alcohol. Edarial plops into one of the couches, looking tired but otherwise expressionless.

"I'm fairly certain," he says quietly, "that you want absolutely nothing to do with me in - er, bed, correct?"